Lost
by assiage
Summary: Alice and Uncas, both so young and weary look towards a future together with hope. They will soon realize that the road to happiness is never an easy one. Noncanon.
1. Chapter 1

_Lost _

_--------_

_An Alice&Uncas Story_

_By Anais_

Disclaimer- I don't own any of this!

_Chapter 1_

The survivors of the slaughter huddled together at the edge of the forest as dawn broke overhead- Chingachgook, his two sons and the Munro sisters.

Uncas lay dazed, his breathing shallow, his gaze bright and feverish. Many thoughts raced through the Mohican youth's mind, images he had long forgotten. _The heart never forgets, _he thought numbly, beginning to shiver. His father shared a worried look with Nathaniel.

_Never…, _thought Chingachgook, _never shall I forget the image of my son at the cliffs, almost losing him… _He turned unsettling eyes toward the slender white girl with hair the color of the moon, the cause of Uncas' mad flight up that mountainside.

His eyes flicked to her wrists, rubbed raw and bloody by Magua's ropes. Her bloodied hands gently adjusted her pale, pink skirts, and she inched closer to Uncas, her blonde hair lank, her skin pale and luminous. Her blue eyes looked very large as she gazed down at his youngest son, solemn and unblinking.

Uncas muttered again and turned restlessly in a delirium of fever. His deep wounds were constantly cleaned and disinfected, the bandages changed.

They could do _nothing_, however, to lower the fever that raged within him. Chingachgook observed it all, calm and stoic. He saw his white son's agitation, the dark haired girl wringing her hands, the gold one gazing down in uninterrupted silence.

But no. Chingachgook would not give in to despair and hopelessness. Death had always been a common fixture in his life, claiming his family and wife while he was still quite young.

Death would not claim his son.

Death was treacherous in the way that it offered no excuses, no apologies, and plucked those whose time had come- be it a brave father who smiled tenderly upon a sleeping son, a beautiful wife with coal black hair and laughing eyes… Chingachgook knew the secrets of time and nature.

Death was looming but not present.

As Uncas turned, Chingachgook caught sight of a pale, slender hand hovering over his son's face. Nathaniel, sitting with Cora in his arms, blinked blearily at the sight of Alice's hand. They all watched silently as Alice lowered her hand gently onto Uncas' brow with a concentrated look on her face.

Chingachgook thought perhaps her hand would be too icy and clammy, and he shifted uncomfortably. Uncas opened his eyes a crack and smiled into the Moon Girl's eyes. Alice returned his smile and held his gaze until his eyes drooped shut, with heavy, even breathing.

_The fever would still be present, _Chingachgook decided, observing the sticky sheen of perspiration over his son. But now, at the touch of a white girl, barely 18 winters of age, he slumbered peacefully.

As Chingachgook's eyes met the resolute gaze of Alice Munro, odd thoughts began to swirl through him. He met her gaze as if it were the first time he was seeing her… which, in a way, it was.

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Uncas was lost in the spectrum between light and dark. There was an odd sensation of floating and his fevered mind somehow made the connection. How could he float, if he were on solid ground?

_Unless I am dying._

Uncas felt no terror. None.

Death was father to sleep, after all. All he felt were regrets, all the hidden regrets of his life he had tried so valiantly to keep at bay. What good were unfulfilled desires, anguish, and regrets to a man? They were useless emotions, he had decided long ago…

But alas, ghostly faces swam unbidden before Uncas. He saw his mother's beautiful, cheerful face. Her dark eyes that always seemed to smile.

His childhood best friend, Keesog. As children, one fateful day, they excitedly agreed to meet near the top of a tall hill. Keesog told a 10 year old Uncas a story he heard from passing traders, that there at the top lay the remains and treasures of long since dead _Yengeese_ soldiers.

Instead of meeting up with his friend, Uncas promptly forgot and accompanied his Father and brother on a fishing trip. Upon returning, they were greeted with the news- young Keesog somehow fell down a ravine in the hill, cracking his head wide open and bleeding to death on the dusty grounds of the hill.

Uncas fell into shock. Only that morning had he seen his faithful friend. With his wide, toothy grin, eyes aglow with anticipation and delight at the prospect of bones, treasure and glory.

"_I don't believe it! Someone has made up this lie!" _he shouted before darting through his Father's arms and into the awaiting darkness.

Keesog's face smiled down at him. No killing wound, no terror, and smiling reassuringly at his old comrade.

_He would have made a good warrior… _thought Uncas in his daze.

Uncas saw acquaintances and past lovers pass before him in an array of colorful silence, when suddenly, something darted out at him. A flash of color… pink fabric.

He squinted, remembering. Pink fabric; long, tapered fingers, blonde hair and hauntingly beautiful blue eyes. Blue eyes as wide as the prairie sky.

_Ms. Alice._

He opened his eyes and gave a ghost of a smile to the pretty blonde kneeling before him, the girl who had captured his heart. His eyes drooped and he slept.

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Alice watched Uncas slumber and knew her heart was his.

She glanced around the firelight. Nathaniel and her sister Cora sat together, whispering, and she realized with a start that Chingachgook was watching her, the fire reflecting in his dark eyes. She licked her cracked lips and plucked a question out of nothingness to mask her awkwardness.

"Where do we go now?" she asked, her voice cracking like dead leaves in her throat.

"We head west," he said after a beat. "Away from the warring French and British."

"You will go to Can-tuck-ee?" she asked, having heard this phrase from Uncas.

"Yes." He paused, and then, "and yourself, Moon Girl?"

Cora suddenly swiveled around, her eyes flashing dangerously in the near darkness.

"What could you possibly mean?" she asked brusquely. "My sister and I will stay together. She will accompany us to Can-tuck-ee."

"Alice is a grown woman," Nathaniel murmured gently to Cora. "Although it would please me greatly for her to join us, the choice is hers of whether or not to return to London or stay here."

"How could you say such a thing?" the dark haired Munro sister whispered fiercely.

"Alice and I have no relations in England. She will be alone! The King can bloody _hang _for all I care. Our home will be here! What is more, she is not grown as of yet."

Her eyes turned to her sister. "Alice, you are…you are…" She thought hard, trying to remember. "You are 16 this year? Is it not so?"

Alice felt deeply wounded, but only for a moment. She could never bring herself to stay upset for long. Truly, Cora was not to fault. Her family had not once celebrated her birthday. Their mother died giving birth to Alice. What was there to celebrate?

Alice cleared her throat delicately.

"I am 18," she answered back quietly.

Cora stared. "But you said… I thought…."

"You are four years older than I am," Alice reminded her sister.

Cora flushed and was still for a second. "Forgive me, sister," she said quietly. "'Tis horrid of me. What manner of sister am I, forgetting your age?"

Alice smiled gently, yet tiredly. "A sister that is far too preoccupied with matters of greater importance. There is nothing to forgive."

Nathaniel smiled at Alice warmly. He liked her sweetness.

"Or perhaps," murmured Cora. "A sister who still sees you as a little girl."

They grinned at each other across the flickering firelight, caught up in memories of the past. _A fierce-eyed little girl with voluminous dark curls, possessively clutching the hand of a tiny blonde child… A blonde girl, staring up at her older, wiser sister with hope and trust…._

Cora gave a throaty laugh that echoes past the trees and beyond.

"It is little wonder… when I heard news of your engagement to Jeremy Forsythe, while I was in Dorchester, I wrote our Father an angry letter asking why he would marry you off at such a young age. He was so bewildered! '_Younger than her have wives been made,' _was his reply!" Cora chuckled on, blithely unaware that Alice's mood had come down a notch.

"You were engaged, Ms. Alice?" Nathaniel asked with interest.

Alice nodded shortly. Nathaniel noticed the guarded expression on her face and so let the matter drop. Besides, he had never been too keen on asking questions.

But still, he wondered what the story was.

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Daybreak dawned crisp and warm. The travelers had survived their first night.

Uncas' fever had broken just before dawn to the overwhelming relief of all those present. The fact remained, however, that he was still too weak to be moved.

The men began to converse in their language and while Cora used her medical experience to tend to Uncas, Alice made herself useful by walking the short distance to a rushing stream to wash Uncas' bandages. She sat down by the stream and proceeded to scrub vigorously, watching the sun arise as if from bitter ashes to turn the world pink and orange.

Alice couldn't believe that she and her sister had survived. Uncas running up by himself no less, to save her, an English girl whom he had known for only a short span of time.

_Time, among other things, is a very deceptive matter, _thought Alice primly. Uncas had almost died on those cliffs at the sharp receiving end of a dagger, until his father and brother arrived and in just the nick of time, too, to finish off Magua and his Huron braves.

Afterwards, the stunned and bloodied group stumbled down the mountaintop and did what they could for Uncas. They worried over Uncas' broken arm and what to bind it with until Alice had a brain wave- their corsets!

They were frightfully tight little buggers, made of some kind of bone, no less, and judging from the bruises Alice had amassed since the age of 13, merely from sporting said garment, well… Her hunch paid off. The girls handed over their loathed corsets, which were stripped of their frilly laces and were used to bind Uncas' broken bones.

"I can't believe you gals had to wear this!" Nathaniel exclaimed, appalled, but laughing in a moment of amusement before Uncas began to shudder as fever set in.

Alice's smile turned pensive as she scrubbed harder.

_Uncas…_

Merely his name sent that odd shiver down the small of her back. What to make of it all? She had never been in love… _Not even with Jeremy. _She thought with a sigh, but banished that train of thought lest she felt anew the sick feeling of humiliation.

Uncas, whose gaze kept flicking towards her after Magua's first attack and their introduction, did not at all fit in for what she thought was a red man. There was nothing vile or savage about him. He was tall, strong, and unbearably handsome. His hue, not red as she had thought, but a warm brown not unlike that of sailors and those who labored outdoors.

Uncas, whose dark eyes stared at her hungrily at the besieged fort after their private meeting outside.

Alice's hands shook and she heaved a shuddering breath. She sat down at the bank of the stream, remembering.

_The boom of French Cannon was suppose to somehow lull her to sleep, she thought disparagingly as she wandered through the winding halls of the fort, the air thick with the moans of the wounded and dying. _

_She gave a gasp of breath. She had no stomach for this misery, and with that, stepped outside, instantly feeling better. She walked around the encampment and saw, to her shock, whole families, wives clutching wounded husbands, young people making the best of a horrible situation and, refusing to sink to despair, whirling in dances as drums, flutes and fiddles rent the air. A powerful testament to the resilient power of youth. _

_It was odd to her eyes. The English were known for their remarkable restraint and these Americans chose to latch onto happiness at least for one more night. Are they foolish? She wondered. Or are they brave? _

_She shook off her muddled thoughts and quickened her pace. What use was bravery when one was dead?_

_A tingling in the back of her neck told her she was being watched. She looked to the right and propped there with a rifle was the young Mohican, Uncas. He gave her a small smile and nodded at being recognized, utterly unembarrassed at being caught ogling her. _

_Alice gave a small sniff. But really, he frightened her. His constant gaze was unsettling, especially the way it caused that damned shiver to course through her._

"_Good evening, sir," Alice said warily as Uncas slowly approached her. _

_A particularly loud boom from the cannons caused her to scream and pivot around so much so that she stumbled. Uncas had not even flinched at the sound as he observed her himself, his dark eyes keen. _

"_Evening, miss," he replied. "Enjoying the scenery?"_

_He was teasing her, and she did not enjoy it one whit. So what if she was skittish?_

"_No." She tilted her chin up. "I was helping in the infirmary."_

"_I know," he said, and stood quietly once more, observing her until she began to fidget. _

"_I beg your pardon, sir," She said in clipped tones. "But as I rather enjoy my life, I do not feel the need to stand so close to the cannons." And with that, she began to walk away. She heard footsteps beside her and stopped and turned. _

_It was Uncas again._

_He smiled. "Let me walk with you, Miss. For your safety." _

_She gave him a blank look, and so he tried again._

"_Please?" She didn't think he was begging. He really was concerned. _

"_All right…" She replied._

_They walked for five minutes in silence, and Alice began to feel more and more awkward. So she stopped in the darkness near her father's quarters. _

"_Thank you, sir. You are a credit to us all," Alice said very properly, turning to leave._

"_Uncas," said his deep voice, smooth as honey. "That is my name."_

_Alice looked startled. "Very well," she conceded slowly. "Have you not a surname?"_

_Uncas ginned slowly and chuckled at her. He was laughing at her! The nerve! He shook his head._

"_Just Uncas."_

"_Well, 'Just Uncas'," she replied, miffed. "This is all very interesting, but _you _will call me Miss Alice." _

_She sounded very, very British._

"_Agreed, Miss Alice."_

_She nodded and turned yet again to leave, but his voice caught her in a grip._

"_I think you are very beautiful, Miss Alice. Also brave."_

_Alice turned slowly. Did she hear correctly? Brave? Beautiful? She knew she was pretty, but she never regarded herself as beautiful. That was Cora; bold, brave, and beautiful. _

_A feeling arose in her chest and she gazed up at him, trying to untangle it all. Why could she not breathe when he looked at her in that manner? Her thoughts seemed turned to mush and she did the one thing that seemed to make sense. _

_She leaned in and kissed him. _

_He kissed her back with an aching sweetness and used his fingertips to bring her closer. The kiss lasted almost a minute. She felt as if a tiny, white, hot fire broke out under her skin and she stopped, gasping for breath. _

_Had he felt it? _

_His dark eyes seemed even darker, and it sent a thrill of warmth spiraling into her belly. They stared at each other for a full ten seconds before leaning back._

_Alice felt frozen._

"_Goodnight," she whispered._

"_Goodnight," he responded in kind. They both slowly turned and walked into opposite ends of the night._

Alice shook herself to stop daydreaming. She doubted many women in London could say they experienced something this taboo, this forbidden… lust for a savage man.

Well, she had decided long before this moment that Uncas was no savage. Uncas saved her life and Uncas had breathed a new life into her, even with the death of her father and friend, Duncan.

Picking up the soaked bandages, Alice trudged back up the hill to her sister and Uncas.


	2. Chapter 2

Alice walked briskly up to the group and placed the clean bandages onto the grass, hoping the morning sun would dry them. She felt every single ache this morn, both on her bruised body and in her heart.

Alice sank onto the grass slowly and realized she had somehow gone numb over the last day. The full horror of the situation was finally sinking in.

Her family was torn asunder.

Her father had been slaughtered.

She and Cora had absolutely no one else in the world, save these men...

The sun was now fully in the sky and casted its rays upon everyone. It hit Cora's dark tresses, illuminating the reddish tones in her hair. Alice felt her heart swell upon gazing at her sister. She felt so much love at that moment; fearless, strong Cora who never shied away from danger but whose love for her younger sister exceeded all limitations and expectations.

Alice knew her entrance into the world had casted a dark shadow into her father's heart, never to be lifted, for he had loved his wife deeply. _I would not have blamed him for abhorring the sight of me, _thought Alice grimly.

But no. Edmund Munro had loved both his girls with equal fervor and never seemed to regret having not sired a son. _To lose my son to one of England's many bloody entanglements overseas? I would not trade one boy for both my lasses. _He was known to mutter upon occasion at dinner parties, which made those very proper British gentlemen frown in disapproval.

It was the one thing Col. Munro ever said that came even remotely close to sounding unpatriotic to the British crown. A Scotsman by birth, he considered himself an Englishman through and through and had been quite rigid in his thinking.

Alice smiled sadly. She had loved her father very much, as well as Duncan.

Cora's voice jarred her out of her reverie. "Alice, are you hungry? Nathaniel has gone to catch some game in the forest."

Alice nodded mutely and then glanced at Uncas' prone figure. His chest rose and fell, but at least, though weak, he still lived. She suddenly felt as if she were being watched and knew instinctively it was Chingachgook once more, observing her through dark, hooded eyes. At that image Alice quickly glanced away, sparing the older man's son from too much attention.

_What must he think? _she thought nervously.

His gaze was not distrustful, but not warm either. Alice was no fool. At least in this way, she understood the world. Father's jealously guarded their children, no matter how grown, and what filial child would not obey a father's wish?

Alice herself did not understand what was happening or what was to come. She only knew her feelings for Uncas were strong, but she was hesitant, unwilling really to take any action. The worlds of Indians and whites were still far off from each other on sequestered shores. The truth of the matter was, and Alice did not delude herself, that Cora was braver than she would ever be. Alice did not think she would be able to do what lay in her heart... to join her heart with an Indian.

A pain filled her soul in that second, as if an iron hand was squeezing the life blood from her heart. She did not know where she belonged. Not anymore. Throughout her life, she strived only to please her father, to make up for having cost her mother her life. Her father had been a brave man. All the Munro's were.

Alice gazed resolutely onto the far off mountains.

_I will not disgrace him now by such a shameful spectacle, _Alice decided.

With that, she quelled the erratic, painful thudding of her heart and went to sit nearer to her sister.

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Uncas awoke to pain and drowsiness, a constant throbbing permeating from inside his whole body. It took a long moment to recall where he was and why. Gasping and clutching the still healing wound in his side, he slowly sat up. Chingachgook was by his side in a heartbeat.

"Lay still, my son," Chingachgook spoke calmly, bracing Uncas' body with his. Uncas shook his head, his throat parched.

"_Mabei?" _Uncas murmured in Mohican, asking for water.

Chingachgook nodded his assent. He picked up a flask of water and handed it to his son. Uncas received it and looked carefully around. The sun was hitting him directly in his eyes.

"_Wneeweh," _he said. Thank you.

After a long swig, his dark eyes turned restlessly, seeking the one who had haunted his fevered dreams. His gaze settled upon the slender form of Alice Munro. He drank in the sight of her, her lithe figure, skin so white and delicate, and her golden hair, he couldn't help but look at in wonder.

He had seen the white settler women with the same moon like hair, but still, he looked upon it with intensity. Alice suddenly looked up and caught his gaze, sky blue eyes meeting dark brown, and she held his gaze for a moment before glancing slowly at Chingachgook and turning away.

Uncas felt perturbed. He saw much in her sad eyes. The light that before shone so brilliantly in them while staring up at him was now, somehow, diminished. He had not expected to feel affection for a young white girl, but something in her moved him tremendously.

In many ways she was just a common Yengeese woman, disdainful at times and downright snobby. But she was also contemplative and possessed a stillness of being he recognized. He remembered the first time on the trek to the fort, when his gaze once more turned to the blonde girl. She was unaware of being watched and stared at the horizon with such sweet sadness. He remembered thinking she looked so young and frail, a pretty flower trapped in a nest of thorns.

She was a bundle of contradictions that Uncas found intriguing and amusing. She lifted her nose in the air when Uncas spoke out of turn, yet she was fascinated by the beauty of nature and the animals and not once complained.

Uncas came to realize her hostility was fear, and fear of what he figured out due to her constant, shy looks in his direction. In this way, as his regard for her grew, he knew hers did as well because she became more sullen and her eyes then rarely left the ground.

When he kissed her at the fort in a move so unlike him, he felt her shiver. Her saddened eyes drew him up those mountains in a frantic race to save her. After that, her eyes were still wide but not fearful, and her look was steady. Now it was cool, but as usual, he saw beyond the pools of blue, the well mannered aristocratic girl, the confines of her world... Her eyes held a hidden pain and regret. His face remained his usual stoic mask, but inside, his gut twisted.

Unless he was very much mistaken, she had just spurned him in a very subtle way.

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Chingachgook watched his son's intense staring of the Moon Girl Munro and again felt the indecision rise in his chest. It was a scrutiny that was not leering but not quite so innocent either. But the fact remained- She was a white woman.

This should have settled the matter and it was beyond him why Uncas felt this stirring in his heart for the girl. Chingachgook knew what love was. Of course he did. His brief years with Machooksis had left him with an agonizing sense of loss.

Their only son, Uncas, should have been married by now to a Delaware woman. He should have fathered children. But he did not broach the subject with Uncas about that matter, or the younger Munro.

It was not in Chingachgook's nature to prod, though he wondered what Uncas saw in the girl. He assumed she was beautiful among the Yengeese, but to him, she was all sickly white; her hair, her eyes, her skin... She was withdrawn and did not seem to possess the strong spirit so valued by the frontier men.

He would leave it to Uncas, Chingachgook decided. If the time arose to speak to his son, then speak he would. But a man's heart was his own business. He only prayed to the Master of Life to direct his son in a righteous path.

Suddenly, there were footsteps and Chingachgook craned his neck to see his white son bound up with three dead rabbits perched carelessly on his shoulder.

Nathaniel smiled at his brother in relief to see him awake. He wiped the sweat from his brow and sat down next to the dark Munro girl. It seemed his older son had found a woman at last and Chingachgook approved of her. She was iron willed and decisive, a good match for his white son.

"Hard to catch?" Asked Uncas as he picked up a dead rabbit, blood dribbling down its brown fur.

Nathaniel nodded, giving his customary smirk. "Did it the old way." Meaning he had set traps for the rabbits using twigs or whatever he could find in the forest.

After giving a quick prayer of thanks for the rabbits and sustenance, the men washed, skinned, and prepared the rabbits and discussed what to do.

They surmised that the best way to head west would be to head out first towards the northern most branch of the Susquehanna River. From there they would meet the friendlier Indians for aid. Unlike the constantly warring Huron, the Lenape, for example, were not allied with the whites nor were they against them.

"Lenape..." said Cora thoughtfully, sounding out the name. "Is this tribe similar to the Mohicans?"

"Not really," answered Nathaniel. "I mean, I reckon so in the way that we're all Indians and descended from the Delawares of old, but we aint the same. My father and brother are the last of our kind. They are the last Mohicans."

"What happened to the others?" asked Cora curiously. "I do apologize if I am prying..."

Nathaniel waved a hand swiftly. "No. Ask away. My Father's people were killed off by diseases like small pox and measles and the yellow vomit, war, white man's rifle."

Nathaniel cracked a lopsided grin. "It falls onto Uncas now to find a woman and continue the line. Make some strong Mohicans sons!"

Nathaniel and Cora laughed. Uncas did not even glance up from his food and Chingachgook glanced at the Moon Girl.

Her fingers froze over the rabbit meat and started to make peculiar nervous gestures in quick succession. She tapped her fingers rapidly and shifted, then placed the meat down, cleared her throat and rubbed her hand on her forehead. Chingachgook missed none of this.

She looked unsettled.

She looked up and gave a wan smile. "I do beg your pardon, but may I be excused?" she asked with the utmost formality.

Her sister and Nathaniel glanced at each other and laughed.

"My goodness Alice," replied Cora with an affectionate smile. "Is it time for high tea?"

Alice gave a short laugh, walked swiftly down the shaded path of the forest and disappeared.

"Do not wander far!" Cora called after her sister, then, with Nathaniel, began packing up their small camp.

Chingachgook did not have to look behind him to know his younger son would soon follow the Moon Girl down the same path. He shook his head with a sigh and helped his white son and his woman pack up the camp.

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Alice burst into a run as soon as she was sure she was out of sight and earshot. She picked up her torn, pink skirts and hurtled deeper into the woods until she stopped by a tall tree and leaned against it. Her breath came out in gasps.

She almost had not made it. A second longer with her sister and her new love and their lighthearted jesting and talks of a wife for Uncas... Alice gripped the near black bark of the stately tree as her heart seemed to squeeze again.

_I will not cry over a damn savage! S_he told herself fiercely and was instantly sickened with remorse over her thought and her uncouth language. She closed her eyes, took an enormous breath and exhaled slowly… she calmed down slightly.

Alice turned and slumped her back against the tree, staring at the impossible beauty of the forest. So many birds, some familiar, some she had never seen before flit around the forest trees chirping merrily. The moss hung down heavily onto the ample tree trunks. Green and brown hues everywhere. She breathed in deeply and smelled the intangible tang of nature, the untamed frontier. Since a mere girl, Alice had been enchanted by all things free.

Alice straightened herself quickly. She knew she must banish Uncas from her mind. She could not love an Indian.

"But now what?" she whispered to herself.

In England, she would be alone and without resources. In the colonies, she did not want to intrude upon her sister and her soon to be husband… and she did not want to be near Uncas. She did not want to be near when he married an Indian woman and began to have children.

He was the last of his kind, Nathaniel had said. Alice had seen the wistful manner in which Chingachgook looked at his son. Alice recognized it because her own Father often wore the same expression. It was a look that spoke volumes in the way of hope. Hope for their children, for their futures. An Indian and a white woman... it was not meant to be.

"Miss Alice?" A voice jolted Alice and she gasped.

Turning, she saw Uncas standing there with some difficulty. He had crept up on her, silent as a deer. His green shirt was tattered and bloodstained and he looked drawn and tired. But to Alice, he was still as handsome as ever. She shook her head quickly.

Uncas stared at her with unflappable calm. "Are you alright?" he asked.

"Thank you for saving my life on those cliffs, sir," was Alice's reply. Uncas lifted a black brow at 'sir.'It was very clipped and formal.

There was a pregnant pause as they regarded each other warily. Uncas ignored her last comment.

"When we were at the fort –"

Alice cut him off. "When we were at the fort, many things happened. The fear I felt led me down a path that was most ill-mannered and unbecoming of a young lady. My nerves were shattered."

Uncas stared at her with a look of complete incomprehension; he hadn't understood half of what she said. Alice drew a shaky breath as he started to slowly walk up to her, his warm brown eyes on hers intently.

"Stop right there!" she said sternly. "You forget yourself, sir!"

"Will you stop with this _sir_?" he said, looking annoyed for the first time ever. She ignored this.

"What happened at the fort was… for lack of a better word, regrettable. It was terribly forward of me to engage in such wanton display of affection with... your kind."

Alice felt the very air change, a sudden chill draping over her and it came directly from his suddenly icy eyes. She met his gaze and held it until he slowly backed away from her.

Uncas smiled coldly and said, "I just came to tell you we'll be heading out soon." His expression now was utterly devoid of expression. "So don't get lost."


	3. Chapter 3

Uncas walked up the hill to meet the other travelers, his face impassive, but within him, a storm was brewing. His hands clenched momentarily, still smarting from Alice's rejection. He remembered her words, "_your kind..."_

She had said them with such coldness. Of course, he was use to the overwhelming hatred of the white men. It was impossible to not feel it growing up in this land, overrun with greedy Yengeese who sneered at an Indian, but were more than willing to trade furs and take an Indian woman for a squaw.

But Uncas had glimpsed something in her, openness rare in whites, even with her British sense of importance. It had all come to naught, Uncas decided with defeat. She would never adapt to the rough life of the frontier.

It was better for her to return to England and live the life of a sheltered, wealthy young lady.

He reached the crest of the hill, where the sun's rays were arcs of an aurora of colors.

"Let us go," he ordered, wincing as he bent to pick up satchels off the ground, mindful of his cracked ribs and tightly bound left forearm.

Cora's eyes widened in alarm. "But my sister –"

"We have to keep moving," said Uncas with the finality of a door slamming. Then he looked at Cora's apprehensive face. "She'll be up soon."

No sooner had Uncas uttered the words that Alice quietly crept up, shaking her skirts lightly and brushing the golden hair from her eyes. Her face was serious, her eyes grim, and she looked downward as she moved towards her sister.

"Do we leave now?" she asked quietly. She saw a flash of white as Cora smiled at her.

"Yes, sister," Cora replied. "Everything has been arranged. But we must not dawdle. We will move south to the mouth of the river and then more until we meet the Ohio Valley."

Alice felt a rare flash of temper, gone before it had time to fester.

_Who is dawdling? _she thought. _I carry my own weight. The same as the next person._

She nodded wearily, rubbing the scabbing wounds encircling her wrist and then spared a quick glance at Uncas. But he was staring outward, appraising the forest as he shouldered his musket with his good arm. Alice glanced down, then, at the whim of the sudden irritability that seemed to plague her, glanced up sharply and kept her gaze focused on the trail and the trees.

_I will not avert my gaze any longer_, she thought scornfully. _I am not a child. I left that in a battlefield strewn with corpses. _

Nathaniel trailed a finger down Cora's cheek as they gazed into each other's eyes.

"Ready?" he asked, glancing at the odd group assembled.

Cora nodded stoutly, picking up more satchels and a musket. Alice did the same, also picking up flasks and a long, sheathed hatchet and turning it curiously. It had interesting black and red geometric designs woven around the hilt and the beauty of the object blindsided her for a long moment before she remembered that it was, in actuality, a tool of death which in all likelihood had taken its fair share of lives and scalps.

It was meant for destruction, not admiration.

She quickly rolled it into the pocketed folds of her skirt.

The group moved onward in the August early morning heat, Uncas never sparing her even the most minute glance, and nor did Alice to him. Still, she felt the proximity of Chingachgook weigh heavily upon her, ever present, ever watchful.

---------------------------------------------------

They had been walking for several hours; the sun was now high in the sky.

Cora glanced sporadically at her younger sister, brows slightly furrowed. There was something different about her sister, but Cora couldn't quite place it. It wasn't really the war, the bloodshed, or the violence her young eyes had been forced to witness. If anything, Cora felt Alice was reacting admirably for a young girl; no theatrics, no sobs, no fainting spells.

_She is carrying herself differently, _decided Cora. _Something weighs upon her mind. Something new..._

Nathaniel was suddenly at her side, brushing his fingers against hers lightly.

Cora glanced up quickly and smiled. "It is not considered polite to creep up upon a young lady, Mr. Poe. Please make your presence known."

Nathaniel grinned at her mock seriousness. He loved her spirit. Did she realize that a sense of humor was a saving grace? "I enjoy creepin' up on you, Ms. Munro."

Cora ducked her head and blushed slightly, then laughed. "In truth," said Cora. "It feels good to jest. I worry about my sister. I know her as well as I know myself. She looks so bewildered."

She looked behind them, at Alice, who walked near the back, squinting up the sky and the treetops.

Cora lowered her voice. "Alice has changed so, Nathaniel. I wonder what ails her..."

Cora, lost in her perplexity, did not notice Nathaniel's eyes dart quickly towards the back of his brother's broad shoulders, then back towards Cora. He took his time answering, choosing his words.

"Maybe aint nothin' _wrong_... I reckon... I mean to say, what if the change in your Alice is good?"

Cora mulled over these words, but seemed unable to decide. "Perhaps..." she said grudgingly, wiping the perspiration dripping down her face.

----------------------------------------------------

It was early afternoon, three days later. The group had walked many miles, stopping late evenings for sleep and to hunt small game, yet keeping a quick, steady pace. Now they paused at a glade sheltered from the sun by a green canopy of leaves.

Chingachgook surveyed the group silently. The dark Munro girl sat down with a wince. He could tell her legs ached. His white son was by her side and they spoke in murmurs.

Uncas still stood in that posture of ready alertness, scanning their surroundings, his dark green shirt even more dirtied.

The younger girl trudged wearily, bathed in sweat, the air escaping her lungs in quick gasps. She grasped a fistful of her torn skirts and sat slowly, shakily down.

Nathaniel noticed her shortness of breath and leaned forward. "How are you feelin', Miss Munro?"

Alice did not reply for a long moment, waiting for her racing heart to slow to a normal pace. And then she offered this: "Please call me Alice, and I hope with your permission to call you Nathaniel?"

He cocked his head with a smile. "Aint bother me. Call me whatever you wish. But do you need some water? There's a stream down yonder. We'll give you gals some privacy."

Alice nodded. "Water would be lovely. But I insist my sister go before me." Alice turned to see the usual motherly protectiveness in her sister's pretty face. "Please Cora. I insist. You look so dreadfully overheated. Please go and take your time."

"But we should in fact go together –"

Alice shook her head emphatically. She had sensed her sister's gaze on her the majority of their trip and knew she burned to ask Alice questions. Cora was quite astute, and Alice was not adept at telling lies no matter how small.

"It will give us some semblance of privacy. You go first and refresh yourself. I wish before anything else to catch my breath."

Cora nodded uncertainly. She opened her mouth to say something, then closed it and got up, smoothing her skirts.

"I will return shortly." She shot her sister a look of silent communication.

_What is the matter with you?_

Alice said nothing, but merely smiled slightly. Cora turned and disappeared behind the brush.

Now alone, the three men and lone woman stared at each other somewhat awkwardly, though Alice still could not bring herself to look upon Uncas. Alice hated these sorts of moments.

"Where are we now?" she asked hurriedly.

There was a pause. Nathaniel affected an air of slight confusion.

"Where are we, Uncas?" he asked his mute brother.

Uncas shot him a warning look and Nathaniel stared beguilingly back. Their father watched this all, but said nothing.

"A day from the mouth of the river," answered Uncas, still glancing around at the trees. "Very near the Delaware Valley."

Nathaniel looked away from Uncas, torn between laughter and annoyance.

Didn't Uncas realize how obvious he was acting? He had seen the way Uncas stared at the young girl on the trek to the fort so many days before, and Nathaniel knew that more than three glances at a woman meant Uncas was infatuated.

At first, Nathaniel took the stares to be unabashed lust and couldn't blame him. She was good looking, after all, in an airy, delicate way. Everything about her bellowed untouchable; her modest, buttoned up dress, her long hair swept up tightly, her eyes grounded and hands folded.

When Uncas scrambled up that mountainside, Nathaniel had been appalled and baffled. His heart thudded in sorrowful agony at the thought of losing his brother. Only by taking a proverbial step back did it slowly make sense. There was more to it, Nathaniel decided. He sensed the tension mounting and how carefully these two people avoided making eye contact.

Nathaniel looked cautiously at his father, not knowing how to even begin to gauge what his reaction would be at the thought of Uncas settling down with a white woman. It was a sobering thought.

Alice nodded and took a deep breath, expelling it slowly. She felt almost as wild as one of the forest animals. She was coated in sweat and dirt and God knows what else.

"But what will happen, I meant to say?" asked Alice.

Nathaniel chose the most direct answer, preferring the truth. "Cora and I plan to head west to Can-tuck-ee... There's land a-plenty down there. No bondages to the crown. You will come with us, outta your own free will. I mean, you can stay or you can go, but Cora and I rather you came with us. 'Course, choice is yours and only yours. My Father hasn't decided. He reckons he'll go with us for a bit, then come back to the Delaware Valley to see how Uncas is faring."

Alice froze and looked at the ground, the old pain twisting her heart. She had a hunch of why Uncas was staying in the Delaware Valley but was too afraid to ask.

Nathaniel answered the unspoken question, gently. "It's just a plan. It aint set in stone. But this year, Uncas will stay with our people, the Delawares –"

"Yes,_ yes,_" Alice burst out. "I know all about Uncas staying with his people to choose a bride and fulfill his duties... find a wife and start a family."

Alice could not figure out what had seized her. Something mysterious loosened her tongue and she felt all her thoughts spew out like bile. "There is no need to adapt that merciful tone of voice. There is no need for me to play the role of lady any longer. I may not be possessed of a fighting spirit, but I no longer wish to be a burden and I do not bloody _dawdle." _

Three pairs of eyes scrutinized her. Nathaniel uncharacteristically did not smirk, but rather tried to appease her temper. "I only meant –"

Alice kept up her angry chatter. "Furthermore, I shan't return to London, nor will I play second fiddle in the wilderness of Can-tuck-ee." For the first time in days, the dark eyes of Uncas met hers and she could not help herself rearing in self-righteous misery. "I will not go to the Delaware Valley either, obviously. But I wish you the best of luck, Uncas. I always have."

The words, taken in context, were as good a declaration of love that Alice was prepared to give. Uncas felt it and his brows arched quickly. He straightened his face because he knew what the game was by now. He was an Indian, after all, he thought derisively.

"So where will you be headed?" he asked, unmoved.

Alice unconsciously bit her lip. There had been a plan formulating in her head for almost a day now, but it was foolish and dangerous... not to mention daring. She felt cut adrift from her old self, from the tea time gossip and flirting behind the folds of a fan.

America was a place of ideas, and she had an absurd idea where a thousand things could go wrong.

_But did the sages not say the best help is in thyself? _Alice mentally asked herself. The hardest part was breaking the news to her sister.

"I have my own plans," she said simply. She got up and dusted herself off. "Now, I beg your pardon gentlemen, but I must speak with my sister."

There! She had done it. Alice felt wild relief unlike anything she had ever felt before. She had spoken her mind to smug Nathaniel and the others and it felt good. It was a tiny victory, but now, for one, she felt almost as brave as Cora. She dipped into a small curtsy, not knowing why, and walked quickly into the same brush as her sister.

The three men sat and stared after her for a moment. Nathaniel seemed slightly dumbfounded, even for him. Uncas was bemused and cocked his head to the side. Only Chingachgook seemed unfazed, but watched her receding back, thoughtfully.

--------------------------------------------------------

Alice pushed branches aside, straining to see her sister. She walked for another minute and then stopped, unsure. She wheeled around slowly.

_Am I lost?_ She thought fretfully.

She closed her eyes and listened, faintly detecting the sound of water lapping. She broke into a light run, bending the corner and heard a low conversation. Alice took another step then her body fastened itself to the ground.

Something was wrong.

Then it clicked in place in her mind.

There wasn't supposed to _be _a conversation. Unless Cora had gotten into the habit of conversing with herself. Alice fervently hoped it was the latter. Dread washed over her because just then, unmistakably, she heard a man's voice. Her feet carried themselves in their own will to a tree. Her breath came out in little gasps and then she remembered the night in the burial grounds, hiding from the French. She had almost given them all away with her loud panting breaths.

Remembering this, she measured tiny breaths and exhaled through her nose. Then she slowly, silently, inched her head to the side of the tree, taking care not to reveal herself. What she saw made absolute horror latch onto her.

Her sister was surrounded by a group of French men who seemed to be interrogating her.

Alice could tell they were French from their filthy, tattered uniforms bearing the colors of their flag. The taller of the men with a thick beard had Cora's arm in a grip and leaned forward to sneer something at her. Cora angrily shook her head, causing the others to chuckle loudly.

Alice felt the blinding panic seize her, the fear that had always plagued her. It made her legs turn to jelly and her thoughts scatter. A scream rose in her throat but she quickly clamped her hand to her mouth.

_Think, think! _she commanded herself, but she couldn't. She tried again, breathing deeply. _How? What can I- How? _

She did not want to leave her sister. She would never do that. But Alice knew she could not take on a group of violent ruffians on her own. They would both be accosted and then killed, the waiting Mohican men never the wiser. If she left now to get help from the others, Cora might well have her throat slit by the time help arrived.

Alice was rooted to the spot in the throes of agony at not being able to make the simplest of decisions as per usual.

_Not my sister!_ she thought in anguish.

Then she stopped and took another shuddering breath. Options weighed, she decided to creep silently back the way she came and break into a run to the men. It was only about a minute. She knew her sister would say whatever she could to borrow time. With that, she shakily took her hands off the bark of the tree and took a small step back.

At that moment, however, she was violently propelled back against the same tree and felt her arm twist behind her. Agony exploded up her arm and she felt her face cutting against the rough bark. She tried to scream, but she was roughly wheeled around and a dirty hand covered her mouth.

The unmistakable point of a knife pressed into her ribs. Standing before her was a wild looking Frenchman, his uniform in tatters, though nothing seemed wilder than his dark, menacing eyes. He leaned forward and Alice gagged as she was met with rotten breath.

"_Ne bougez pas!" _he snarled, tightening his hold, his maniacal eyes pinning her down.


	4. Chapter 4

Alice tried to remember how to breathe as she was shoved into the clearing where her sister was being questioned. The dirty Frenchman pushed her hard and she fell on her knees, causing her to become dizzy with pain as the ground made contact with her already bruised forearm.

She gave a cry and Cora, wrenching her arms free, screamed, "Stop it!"

The men gave identical grins as they eyed them. The tall one with the thick beard looked annoyed at Cora's outburst and yanked her around by her hair, snarling something at her. Alice was too terror stricken to try to decipher his rapid French.

Her eyes remained upon Cora, praying and hoping that these men would spare her. Only five men assembled wore the same lewd smiles and Alice had no trouble discerning their thoughts.

The same man turned his eyes malevolently towards Alice. She tried to plow through her school girl French, which was elementary at best.

"_Mon soeur," _she said beseechingly, pointing her good arm towards her sister. "_Ne la blessez pas!" _She pleaded on her sister's behalf.

This man, the man who had been threatening her sister, grabbed her by the pink cloth of her collar and began his round of questioning aimed at her. Alice gave a squeal of shock as tears began to pour down her face. He asked her a question, but Alice, locked in the grip of her terror could not understand.

"_Où sont ils?!" _he hissed.

_Where are they? _Alice repeated to herself.

Finally, she could make sense of this whole affair. At first, she had thought they were trappers, but as far as she knew, French trappers would not don military ensemble. She could only guess they were French soldiers who had deserted their own military to offer their allegiance to more fortuitous causes. And now they wanted her to give away the whereabouts of the Mohicans; the very men who had risked their lives time and again for her safety and her sister's.

Alice shook her head quickly. "_Je n'ai vu personne!" _she whispered, denying anything.

The tall, strong man's eyes narrowed dangerously. He pressed his face close to hers and bellowed, "_Menteur!" _

Before Alice had time to defend herself, she was sprawled on the ground. The Frenchman had backhanded her and Alice swore she saw stars as she clumsily tried get up.

Cora gave a strangled cry and her face turned apoplectic with rage. "Don't you touch – you _bastards!_" She screeched as another man, smaller and blonde pounced on her and snaked his arm around her neck, holding her fast.

Alice's vision swam as she regained her footing. She tried to piece together French words- "_Jamais dans ma vie! Je ne sais pas!"_

It all sounded so garbled to her that she wondered how they did not laugh. She only consistently tried to get her point across. She and Cora were alone and did not know anyone else in these woods.

"_Où allons-nous de pair avec cet argument?" _another one of the men burst out, darting his eyes around uneasily.

Alice could not understand this phrase, but felt a shiver of foreboding. She pleaded to the powers that Uncas and the other men be kept safe from harm. Her eyes met the frantic eyes of Cora and Alice knew Cora was thinking the exact same thing.

---------------------------------------------

Chingachgook watched the small of Alice Munro's back as she disappeared into the woods. It was all somewhat interesting, to say the least. He had no idea that quiet slip of a girl had such strong emotions. He had detected anger, resentment, fear, uncertainty, as well as strong melancholy.

Chingachgook was an observer of men; he always had been. There were some who were natural talkers and Chingachgook was a listener, an observer, always watching and seldom speaking. Words did not carry meanings so much as the white men believed.

This much Chingachgook knew.

Words could be hollow and without truth or meaning. He could look into the pools of someone's eyes and know their true meaning.

The blonde girl's words were harsh and guttural, but honest, Chingachgook decided. Her feelings were raw and young, but he detected no deceit in her. Only a bewildered sadness and untried, girlish passion. He did not think this Moon colored girl possessed the fortitude to withstand the bleak reality of the wilderness and did not think badly of her because of it. The paths of life were long and winding. What someone believed in their youth could turn treacherously against them. She would find her way.

"It aint that serious…" Nathaniel muttered, stretching his legs and tearing his gaze from the path Alice Munro had just flounced into.

He smiled to himself. He still liked her. If anything, he enjoyed her little tantrum. It showed him and the others there was still some fire in her not dampened by the ravages of war. She had looked so much like Cora with her eyes flashing like that.

He slanted Uncas a slightly mocking look and opened his mouth to say something to pester his younger brother, something alluding to a certain blonde girl.

His words were stolen, however, because their father suddenly sat up straighter, his dark eyes intense and watchful. He looked around slowly, cautiously, and the silence that befell the family felt like a blanket of ice.

"Something is wrong," said Chingachgook wearily.

Uncas felt it, too. The air seemed tense. Even the cacophony of nature seemed unbalanced. A moment ago he had been irritated, perceiving his brother well enough to know he was about to spew off some cheap joke at his expense.

Now the world seemed heavy with warning.

He slowly unwounded himself from his position, his movement slow and languorous, but with the air of a snake about to strike. He was in his element.

A hunter.

Nathaniel concentrated on the signs their father had taught them to read and knew danger was afoot. Then he suddenly remembered Cora and felt confusion give way to raw nerves.

"The women," he said quietly.

He knew panic and fear would solve nothing, but knew one truth – he had found Cora Munro, his match in every way.

In a world of chaos and brutality, a bright flame had been lit. He would not lose her today.


	5. Chapter 5

**Disclaimer: Don't own anything!**

Cora could never remember a time when she did not love her sister. Even as a very young child, she understood that she must always protect her. Her Father always entrusted her with this. She knew Alice was fundamentally not weak, but rather of a nervous disposition. For this reason, as the bedraggled Frenchmen shoved them deeper into the woodlands, it was imperative for Cora to ease her sister's mind.

"Alice?" she panted, clutching her sister's arm for support.

Alice stumbled and nearly fell, causing the bearded man to spat a curse and give her an extra hard push. Cora glared at him hatefully.

"Yes?" asked Alice numbly.

This scenario was starting to feel too familiar. It was strange, but given the fact that they had faced a barrage of danger recently, now that the men were moving them somewhere, the faintheartedness was being replaced with something else. A weak resolve, and not because they had been lucky so far and saved in the nick of time. But in Alice's mind, they had already faced the worst they could endure.

"Do you remember the puppy you found as a child that Papa would not allow you to keep?"

Alice looked at her confusedly. What was she on about? There were things of a more pressing nature. "Yes," she replied.

"It tracked muddy paw prints all over the dining room and tea room." Cora remembered. Alice cracked a smile at the memory.

"Taisez-vous!" was the rude retort from the rear of the group.

Alice paid them no mind.

"It chewed up your favorite pair of dancing shoes. It knocked down and broke Grandmother's urn that she left Papa."

Alice's smile widened as she recalled Col. Munro's red-faced tirade when he saw his Mother's urn shattered at the foot of the library fireplace and the girls' all too innocent faces.

"Do you remember what you named him?" Cora pressed.

Alice sighed and thumbed a rivulet of sweat that was meandering down her collar bone. She shrugged, thinking of Scotland. "Zeus?" she said, straining to recall.

Cora shook her head. "Atlas."

Cora continued. "When you found him in the marshes not far from our home, he was a tiny, frail, whimpering thing…"

The Frenchman in the front craned his neck back as he led them deeper into the shadowy woods and looked at them in contempt and warning, as if to convey that his patience was at an end.

Cora lowered her voice to a breathy whisper. "Papa told you that he would not last the night as he was weak and without his mother," Cora said in a rush. "But you knew he was stronger that that, that he had survived a storm and starvation, that he would have the strength of ten wolves, the heart of a lion you said! You named him Atlas. He became so strong that he accompanied Papa in his military campaigns."

Their father had come to regard the dog greatly. It had eventually died in some far off land.

A melancholy gripped Alice, a fear, a frenzy for wanting to see her sister alive and well. Perhaps married to Nathaniel, perhaps not. But no one chasing them down, no one dragging them away, no one wishing them harm. Cora had been her constant fixture in life. She was stability and warmth and love. She knew why she was talking of the dog, to distract her and raise her spirits. What Cora said next caused Alice's heart to swell with emotion.

"You are Atlas to me, sister," she said steadily. "Do not forget that. Even if you do not know your own strength, I do. You have the heart of a lion. You can hold the world on your shoulders and not break."

* * *

Nathaniel raced down a ravine, blood rushing in his ears, fear for the girls' safety blinding him. His father called him in Delaware to stop. By then they knew they were taken by force and were being dragged through the forest, no doubt to some camp.

"They will not harm them. They are worth too much," his father stated calmly. It was true. Well-bred English girls could bring in a tidy ransom. But who would take them?

"French or Ottawa," said Uncas, concentrating towards the nearby hillside. It was as if he had read Nathaniel's mind, but as brothers, they had always been in-tune like that.

"It's the same goddamned thing!" exploded Nathaniel. "Those French dogs are always allied to the Ottawa for fur or gold or just against the English." He gripped his hatchet, wanting nothing more than to bury it into someone's skull. Into whoever had taken them. Whoever had taken Cora.

Uncas considered this. "Maybe. But there are many French stragglers who have left the military. The Ottawa answer to no one. At least the French have some knowledge of their worth. The Ottawa would have just killed them on the war path. We know they were taken. It had to be for ransom."

"But Ottawa would not harm them if they decided they were more useful alive," Nathaniel countered mulishly. "Frenchmen have a habit of -"

"Stop," came his father's stern command. Even now as a seasoned man, Nathaniel would not dare disobey a direct order. He only simmered in silence. Chingachgook eyed him disapprovingly. "We have seen no indication of that. Your opinions and ideas are clouding your mind. We will follow. We will track. We will take their scalps."

Uuncas stared at the ground. He also imagined what the Frenchmen could do to hapless women. He pushed it out of his mind. _Then again, _he thought, _they are made of sterner stuff. _He looked up at his brother's scowling demeanor.

"We know they are alive. They are heading east."

They took off in a run.

* * *

Later that morning, the three men stopped. Chingachgook studied the ground and the bark of the trees carefully. Nathaniel snorted in disgust. Those half-wits hadn't even tried to conceal their tracks.

"They have quickened their pace," Uncas concluded. "They can't be far." He pointed near the brush. "One of them fell." Uncas felt a weight in his stomach. The last few weeks were some sort of dream from the Great Spirit. He shifted his feet and his eyes followed the bend that turned sharply. He could feel it in the air. They really were not far.

The trio sped up. About two miles down, they paused again. Chingachgook calmly drew out his tomahawk. It was a sharp movement that would have surprised an outsider to witness, a man of his age being so agile. It was known that Chingachgook had sharp instincts and could strike a decidedly deadly blow.

Uncas nodded silently and poised the rifle on his shoulder, then stopped. He, instead, handed his brother the rifle. Nathaniel was the better shot. He drew out his hatchet and Nathaniel tossed him another. Fully armed, he crouched behind the foliage. He was in his element. The ground, the leaves, the air all indicated that the time to strike was now. With only the most minimal of movements, he carefully brushed the leaves back to peer down the winding road, hatchets ready. His eyes narrowed.

There were several men sitting in a semi-circle. Their colors could only mean they were French. A large, burly one with a beard seemed to be the one in charge. Wearing a look painted in rage, they all whispered urgently and glared to the side. Uncas's gaze followed theirs. _It's them… _He thought in relief. They were safe. That was the most important thing. They looked tired and strained but otherwise unharmed.

Uncas continued to observe as the angry fat one reached over and spoke to Alice in his native tongue. Her eyes downcast she shook her head almost demurely. The man grunted and grabbed her wrist and yanked her forward. Cora began to lean towards her sister, her arm outstretched. Alice shook her head forcefully to her sister.

"I don't speak French. Not well." Uncas clearly heard this come from Alice. He cocked his ear to listen. The Frenchmen frowned. "But we are the daughters of an English colonel. If you were to take us to our father, the reward would be bountiful."

The Frenchman started at her. Alice gave a tiny sigh and bit on her parched lip. She cleared her throat. "_Je ne parle pas _-"

The man pushed her back hard. "I speak English. I know your words," he interrupted. His pronunciation was gruff and heavily accented. "You would like to go to the fort, _non_? To see _ton_ _père?"_ He chuckled. "I am no fool, _mon cherie. _Your English officers will shoot me on sight. We will take you to _mes amis, les Otowa. _The reward will be bountiful, indeed." He chuckled, then went back to ignoring them.

Uncas had seen enough. He ducked back and raised his palm up, then turned it around quickly. It was a sign that they had made up to signify there was more than one to deal with. Nathaniel and Chingachgook joined him as they stood, readying. On their father's mark, they sprung into action.

* * *

Alice's head jerked at a sudden noise as three blurred shadows had leaped to the center out of nowhere. She dumbly stared at the big man to her side as his nostrils flared and his eyes dilated in fear. He gave a roar of rage and jumped up, reaching for his pistol. Alice flinched as a the sharp crack of bone breaking reached her ears. She shuddered, watching the large man fall and lay still, eyes staring but not seeing. A hatchet caved his skull in.

Cora and Alice scrambled to get up, their skirts tangling them. Alice then chose to stay down. Another man, a lean wiry one thudded to the ground. Chingachgook promptly leaned down and deprived him of his scalp.

The scene had become absolute bedlam. The Frenchmen ran about in a panic, trying to shoot the Mohicans but seemed no match. Nathaniel kneeled, aimed and fired one that was fleeing, felling him instantly.

Alice's breaths came out in shorts bursts of panting. Clutching her skirts, she felt something hard. She had felt it earlier but had not dared to take it out. Unraveling the folded pockets of her skirts, she looked quickly at the designs of the Indian blade. She balked and looked helplessly around. Alice did not know how to use a knife.

Another Frenchman crashed down almost next to her, mouth agape in agony, jutting teeth stained red from the blood bubbling out. An ugly, deep wound on his side glared angrily, the product of a well placed blow from Uncas's hatchet.

_My God…. _thought Alice in horror. His eyes blinked open and from his side, he produced a flintlock pistol and aimed as Nathaniel bore down on him. Alice didn't know if it was loaded, but gasped nonetheless once seeing Nathaniel within range.

Moving quickly, she turned the blade down, lurched forward on her knees and stabbed it into the man's hand, impaling it into the ground. As he screamed hoarsely, Nathaniel stood over him. Alice could not stand to watch. She shakily stood up and looked away as Nathaniel dispatched his opponent.

It was suddenly quiet. The gunpowder was clearing, and Alice was in a daze. Nathaniel approached her and put his hand on her shoulder.

"Are you alright?" he asked in a low voice, concern etched across his face.

Alice nodded. Nathaniel appeared doubtful. He looked around for Cora and saw her standing with his father. He sighed in relief. Linking their hands, Nathaniel guided Alice toward the group.

_Uncas… _thought Alice yearningly. The name came forth from an area near the left part of her ribs. Darting her eyes up quickly, her gaze met his. She could tell he had heard.

* * *

A year and a half with no update, guys I am so sorry! But I never gave up on this story. Life became crazy, but today I was looking over some reviews and my heart almost caved in from the guilt. I set to work right away.

Please thank my wonderful beta reader, Departed. Check out her stories, she writes awesome Twilight fics. I couldn't have done this chapter without her encouragement these last few hours.

I may need to take a short break however, per Departed's advice. She suggests I write some of it first instead of what I normally do, just write madly and post it without spell checking. You guys are the best though, and I PROMISE I won't let another year roll by! Please R&R.


	6. Chapter 6

**Disclaimer:** Anything you recognize, I don't own. Just basically typing out my fantasies. ::shrugs::

_-----_

_Lost_

_-----_

___________

_ChapterSix_

___________

They started the small campfire early that evening. Nathaniel wanted the women to rest; he always thought fire was soothing. Thus, as the day melted surreptitiously into night, allaying the heat and blanketing them all in the fading vibrant twilight, the fire was lit quickly and the women all but collapsed to the ground.

Sitting back on his haunches whilst feeding twigs half-heartedly into the calescent sparks, Nathaniel reflected on the earlier day. After the ordeal with the French soldiers, they knew they could not delay and took off at a sprint, heading back west the way they had came.

Alice and Cora spoke little. Nathaniel, sparing them a worried glance, noticed the numbness in their faces and grit his teeth. He knew they could not tarry. There could be more soldiers or war-bent Indians nearby. Cora and he spent only mere moments embracing, then at the sepulchral nod of the family patriarch Nathaniel urged the women onward.

Farther down the burgeoning woodland, Uncas had paused and his lips contorted for a moment. Looking at his brother, he shook his head imperceptibly. The women were a little behind them, their father at the head of the group.

Glancing at the sisters fleetingly, Nathaniel edged closer to Uncas.

"Brother," he said in a low voice, speaking their native language. "You are in pain. Let us stop."

Uncas nonchalantly shook his head again, but Nathaniel saw the tightness of his jaw, and the rigidity of his back. He was holding the pain at bay. His gaze was unyielding as he murmured that they must keep going.

Nathaniel's eyes narrowed. "You are still hurt and probably bleeding. You will be no use to us if you collapse from blood loss."

Cora and Alice had stopped, out of breath. Their eyes flickered curiously between the young men, unable to decipher their words.

Nathaniel noticed Alice's gaze linger on his brother's face, the worry apparent.

Uncas, however, was intractable. Nathaniel could tell he was uncomfortable with everyone crowding around him, staring. Nathaniel used this to his advantage.

"I was just tellin' my brother that we should rest," he explained to the apprehensive females. "He is still hurt from the wounds he sustained. Father would want to stop."

Uncas stiffened, his face a smooth mask of stone. "I'm fine," he simply stated.

Cora stepped forward, her face lined with concern, but her eyes were shrewd. "We should rest, then. Please allow me to tend to your wounds, Uncas. I'm sure your father agrees."

Chingachgook suddenly loomed over them, having stealthily approached unnoticed. Alice's face screwed up in discomfort._ How does he keep doing that? _she thought sullenly. She lowered her eyes a fraction, then swung them quickly to Uncas.

_He is hurting, _she thought in shame. Alice could not help but feel it was all her fault. All of it.

He had faced the Huron party head-on because of her, then the Frenchmen, not to mention the countless times he had aided her in the trek to the fort and after. She also thought of her father and Duncan and the forlornness again recaptured her.

He looked so strong in the sunlight, his features smooth and even. Even with his flesh marred on his arms and the green of his shirt more dark now with grime, she thought she had never beheld a more noble vision in her life.

Alice felt her breath hitch. She again lowered her gaze.

"What is it?" asked Chingachgook alertly. His tone was such that it did not sound like a question.

The two younger men and women all kept an uncomfortable silence. Nathaniel was not really going to tell their father Uncas was in pain, not if his brother did not wish it.

The sisters looked discomfited, not wanting to address Chingachgook directly.

Uncas met his father's gaze. "We have much land to cover."

Chingachgook cast a piercing look to his younger son, studying him. Then he nodded once. "I agree." He said the rest in Mohican. "But if you are fatigued, we will stop. Understood?" Again, it was not a question.

Uncas nodded.

Nathaniel could sense Uncas was vaguely annoyed now, but as usual his face expressed nothing. Mirroring his younger brothers impassiveness, he put his hands on Cora's back and led her forward, then nudged Alice gently. He looked at the blonde girl steadily. She thought she was being furtive but he noticed the tiny glances she gave Uncas.

There were emotions pooling in her cerulean eyes. He thought of how much she must hate feeling so helpless.

* * *

Nathaniel was pulled back into the present and looked around. The two girls were huddled together on the soft grass, Cora clutching her sister, fast asleep.

Alice was awake but staring sky-ward at the deepening blue of the sky. Night was approaching. Though she was immobile as some prone marble effigy, her eyes were restless. Her pupils darted across the sky, making him think she was reliving at least some of the past few days.

He didn't want to think about those French mongrels. The three men had silently agreed not to bring it up until after the women were feeling better.

Nathaniel looked at Uncas and realized with a start he was watching Alice Munro intently. They had all apparently fallen into the same lethargic lull. These moments were few and far in between.

Noticing their father to the fringe, out of earshot on the first watch, Nathaniel decided to speak his mind.

"My brother, how do you feel?" he inquired in Mohican, whispering. His brother soundlessly gestured him over. Nathaniel complied.

They spoke in whispers as dusk yielded to the hush of night.

"Better," Uncas said. Then a beat later, "How are you? How are… the women?"

Nathaniel scratched his neck lazily. "If you mean, how is the blonde one, I think she is holding up good."

"I asked you how are the _women._"

Ignoring the almost indiscernible vexation in his brother's voice, Nathaniel kept up with the same thread.

"She keeps looking at you, Uncas. Anything I should know? Or rather, anything that's prudent that I know?"

Uncas said nothing, concentrating on the fluttering firelight. The yellow light irradiating the copper tones of his skin.

Nathaniel thought perhaps Uncas had decided to ignore him. _He is keeping secrets, _he thought. _Fair enough._ He rolled his shoulders experimentally with a wince.

Uncas suddenly looked up, his face stark in the half-lit night. "I thought I felt something. I was wrong," he said lowly.

Nathaniel cocked his head, confused.

"Feelings are rarely wrong," He replied, slowly.

"I saw something in her. I thought I recognized this."

His voice had a strangeness to it, but Nathaniel picked up on it. He knew he had to choose his words very carefully, mindful that it was hard for Uncas to share his feelings. He would try to coax this out of him.

"I would say she feels the same way. She stares at you, with worry and something else."

They paused for a beat.

"It is not enough," Uncas finally said. Nathaniel shook his head shortly.

"It is enough. She is feeling for you what you feel for her. She has opened her heart to someone so much different from herself."

Uncas looked agitated for a moment, his mouth turning. Nathaniel tried a different tactic.

"How do you know it is not enough?" he challenged his brother.

"Because…. because she told me," he said this with neutrality, but Nathaniel's eyebrows swiftly shot up to his hairline. _I knew there was much more to it… _

He had had a sneaking suspicion at Fort William Henry but it had seemed so absurd that he had not voiced it. Until now.

"What happened at William Henry?" he asked Uncas abruptly. "How did this all happen? Did you sneak off to see her?" _Sly fox… _he thought, amused.

"Not really," Uncas stated with a shrug. "I mean, I saw her there. But it wasn't planned. I was thinking about her, more than I knew I should have been."

Uncas threw his brother a look, as if he assumed he would laugh. But Nathaniel was serious, nodding in understanding.

"Did you talk?"

Uncas looked at the ground, shifting. "We talked…"

Nathaniel's senses became heightened. It wasn't what Uncas had said, it was what he had left apparently unsaid. The unfinished thought lingered in the air and Nathaniel almost had it.

"And… and then?" He tried to verbally nudge him, he couldn't help himself.

Uncas shook his head adamantly, face stoic again. But not before his brother had snatched the unfinished thought deftly and formalized it in his mind.

"You _kissed _her?" he half demanded, needing verbalized validation.

Uncas shook his head more forcefully, but his brother was not a fool. Nathaniel fought the snicker that rose in his throat.

It wasn't that the situation was funny, because it wasn't. Neither was the thought of his brother kissing a female. It was just that Nathaniel always appreciated irony, in its basest form.

His thoughts went to Cora then and the smirk fell.

He suddenly foresaw complications in the near future, as Cora was unusually protective of her little sister. Cora had consented to be his wife and he dreaded the thought of anything jeopardizing this.

"You kissed her," He said gravely. "You don't have to deny it. But that was all, right?"

Uncas looked at him, baffled. "That's all."

Nathaniel relaxed.

"Alright, brother. I do not mean to pry or nag at you like some old fisherman's wife. As long as you comport yourself with honor, I am happy. I know, Uncas-" he said quickly, anticipating his brother's mental sigh of consternation, "-but I have to say it. I'm sure you understand that this affects everyone."

He had no need to say it out loud. They both, however, knew to whom he was alluding. Their father. Having had this whole conversation in Mohican, they both fell silent. Nathaniel and Uncas clasped eyes, both somber. Uncas gazed up at the milky heavens that were tonight splashed with countless stars.

"There is no need to drag Father into this, brother," said Uncas calmly. "She will return to her homeland, eventually. She is not made for the frontier. She is white. I am not."

Nathaniel briefly wondered why they were both subconsciously avoiding saying her name, but decided not to dwell on it. He also recalled the hint of Alice Munro's apparently broken engagement, but didn't wish to gossip about her business, especially with the last phrase Uncas had just said doing slow pirouettes in Nathaniel's mind.

"She said that? That it is because you're not white?" asked Nathaniel carefully.

"In a manner of speaking," Uncas replied, then said no more.

For the next few minutes they both sat quietly, aware of the dull thrum of nature, ears as always attune for any subtle changes.

The girls' soft breathing, the warm breeze wafting through the branches and their hair, their father sitting still slightly on the outskirt of their makeshift camp, rifle and war club at hand.

Nathaniel leaned closer to Uncas, his voice a murmur.

"There is so much that is unsaid, Uncas. That is the last I will speak of it with you, until you wish to willingly discuss this matter with me. I think the girl is confused. She did not ask to be placed into this situation. Her father and friend were murdered. She can not return to England for the foreseeable future. Her sister is starting a new life. She most likely thinks she will dishonor her father's memory by thinking of you in any way other than an acquaintance."

Nathaniel leaned back to better see Uncas' face, but his brother was aloof and impassive. He decided to finish his thoughts on this delicate matter.

"You do not want to dishonor Father either. That is understandable. I think you should try to speak with her when the opportune moment arrives… and then our father at some point. If it is truly meant to be."

They bother jerked back, tense, as their senses caught the flutter of movement.

Chingachgook stepped up to them and lay down with a weary groan, closing his eyes.

"Next watch," he said, voice husky and low. He lay his weapons at arm's length. The truth was none of them would sleep much even if they weren't on watch.

Nathaniel rose quickly, casting a look at his brother as he grabbed his rifle and hatchet and took his father's place as guard.

* * *

At daybreak the small group quickly pulled up their camp and headed back into the routine of the previous days, a quick pace through this mass expanse of forest. The women looked on blearily with exhaustion as the men donned their weapons and spoke quietly. There was a hush and placidity around them. The air was grey and blanched with the early morning chill.

Alice wished badly that she could bathe. It was shocking to be so filthy and grubby. Her hair was disheveled -obviously no longer plaited- and stringy with dried sweat, not to mention the shocking state of her once fine dress.

Looking at Cora, Alice knew her sister looked the same as her. Dresses begrimed and tattered, their shoes in a sad state and worn almost completely through. Alice kept a steady pace throughout the morning, by now use to the blinding heat once the sun hazily emerged.

She was fast adapting to the frontier, she thought wryly. At least the aspect of it that involved traversing on foot.

Throughout the afternoon, the plan was explained to the women.

Chingachgook had mulled over the issue with some consideration and decided that for now it would not make any sense to head west. While it was true that the war lay in the east, the part they were currently in, the expedition to Can-tuck-ee would be fraught with peril in its own way.

Nathaniel had explained that for the time being, they would all follow the same course. They would reach the periphery of a settlement within the day, which was fortunate because the Lenape made their camp nearby during the warmer season.

Alice was intensely curious about these people. The Lenni Lenape, or Delaware to the English, seemed very interesting to her.

Nathaniel spent the next few minutes explaining to an animated Alice and her dubious older sister a brief, abbreviated history of the people that were his father's friends and ancestors.

"They are a good people," commented Nathaniel, who was roasting cod his father had caught in the stream with a small woven net from his pack.

They were sitting around the small spit on the ground, having decided to rest for a spell and catch some food for the women.

"Originally, the Lenape had gotten along quite well with the Europeans," Nathaniel explained while devouring his share of the codfish. "But a rift began to form between them after some years."

"Why?" asked Cora, who was idly braiding her hair by his side, trying to tame the wild curls. It was Uncas who answered.

"One of the Englishmen, many years ago, was given a piece of land by his master across the sea. It is the area known today as Pennsylvania."

Alice made a small noise, looking confused.

"It means the king of England granted him a charter, as the whites call it," put in Nathaniel helpfully. "His name was William Penn."

Not wanting to seem any more ignorant than she already must have appeared, Alice rushed to say something knowledgeable. She had heard of this man, vaguely.

"He was of the Quaker sect, was he not?" she asked.

Nathaniel nodded.

"Right. He treated the Delaware with kindness, I reckon. They thought him a good man and for the years that he was alive, there was peace between the two sides."

"What happened?" asked Alice, intrigued.

"After he died, his descendents did not want to honor their father's request to be fair to the Lenape. They spoke of a treaty made long ago that deeded land to the whites, as much land as they could walk in a day and a half. The Delaware agreed, but before the actual walk took place the whites cheated."

"How?" asked Cora, who looked appalled.

"By clearing a path through the untouched forest. Hiring expert runners." Uncas now spoke, taking a swig of water.

"That is terrible…" stated Cora, clearly sympathetic.

She looked at Chingachgook, but he was puffing at a clay pipe, lost in his own musings and apparently unwilling to join in the discussion of greedy Yengeese and the wronged red men.

"The results were that the whites ended up with twice as much land as they agreed on, most of eastern Pennsylvania colony," Nathaniel concluded.

All of them were quiet for a long moment. Alice thought it over and was saddened and hoped that these Indians would not be anything like the Huron or Ottawa.

But Nathaniel had clearly stated that while the relationship between the Lenape and English was strained due to the Englishmen's trickery, the relationship was at least non-violent.

She also was not altogether inclined to dwell on another topic that was troubling her. She was torn about Chingachgook's decision to hold off with moving westward. While she understood the logic of it, she didn't like it. What good could come of staying anywhere near the Lenape? She knew nothing of them except that Uncas would winter with them.

_And if… _she thought. _If….._

Determined not to finish the thought, she reflected on her poor father and Duncan.

After she was dragged away from the Huron village by Magua and his braves, she recoiled as the agonized screams of her friend reached her ears. Her mind felt broken with pain and despair. Her father was gone, Duncan was being devoured by flames at that moment, and she did not know what had become of her sister.

The sunlight had been startlingly, blindingly bright as they wound their way up the side of the cliff. Alice found that the fear she felt was diminished.

_Will he slit my throat and throw me from the cliff?_ she wondered, but found that after everything that had happened she was less afraid.

She had felt as if she were frozen in a great block of sun glinted ice. Instead, her mind had drifted to happier times. Her girlhood in Scotland and London.

Her sister illuminated by the blood red sun, happy… happy… as she grabbed her younger sister's hand and they ran at break neck speed down the yellow and green hills of Iverness, Scotland. She remembered her father's starched uniform smelling of earth and gunpowder, his blue eyes smiling at her, eyes that mirrored her own.

But persistently, more than anything, she saw _him. _His slanted black eyes that held so much warmth, the angular planes of his cheekbones, the soothing strength of his hands.

She recalled with heartbreaking clarity how, under the falls as they hid from those painted monsters, he held her in his arms and she could feel the steady thud of his heart beating against hers.

He had caressed her arms and face and gently braided her drenched hair and Alice, marching up that mountainside with the Huron flanking her, remembered with bittersweet sorrow the feeling she had had at that moment when the backs of his knuckles skimmed her cheeks.

As if her very heart was expanding to encompass everything and everyone around them.

Alice, falling headlong into the dizzying feeling, felt the very air leave her lungs and a warmth suffused her like a heady wine. Looking up and catching his eyes, she saw the yearning in his eyes but in her inexperience said nothing. After he finished braiding her hair he helped her up and led her back to the others.

Alice had hoped that before she died she would have one chance, just one moment to herself as her life ebbed out. To be aware of advancing death; if he raised his hatchet before her or dragged her slowly to the edge of the cliff. What she had wanted was to have a split second to remember black, longing eyes and gentle fingers as she departed from this life to the next. Instead, a gunshot shattered her reverie and she froze, hoping against hope that she would be saved instead of dying against the dusty rocks.

Craning her neck, she locked eyes with a pair of dark irises and an unfaltering gaze.

* * *

The next day they felt much more energized. The were now at the mouth of the river and it would be a long canoe ride before they reached the settlement and their destination.

A few hours after dawn the sisters sat on the mossy banks of the river nearby Uncas and his father, Nathaniel had been given the task of sprinting up the forest to speak with the Mohawks who held a small camp nearby. He was trying to trade and bargain with them to have at least two of them commandeer a pair of dug out canoes upriver for a half a days journey.

In less than an hour he returned with two young Indian men in buckskin leggings and calico shirts of blue and green, which apparently was what the red men tended to wear. Alice had not thought of this.

One of them was slightly older and had his head shaved smooth into a scalp lock. The second one was younger and his long, onyx hair hung loose but adorned with feathers. They both stood impassive and eyed the Englishwomen carefully as Nathaniel spoke in a low voice to his family.

It wasn't long before more men came up the forest trail, dragging two canoes with them. Grunting with the effort they heaved them up and, with a splash, into the glassy waters.

"Let us go," said Nathaniel hurriedly. "If we hurry I reckon we can be there mid-afternoon."

He spoke briefly with the Indian men as if thanking them, then signaled the women toward the canoes. The sisters, for their part, stood unsure.

The young Mohawks each climbed into the birch canoes. Uncas and Chingachgook went to opposites ones and both sat at the rear. They grabbed paddles and looked at Nathaniel and the girls expectantly. Cora wound her arm around her sisters neck and they both walked haltingly forward. At Nathaniel's insistence they both climbed in in front of Chingachgook, and Nathaniel joined his brother.

The hours passed without incident, the forest passing in an array of colors and sounds. Alice and Cora fell into a somnolent daze, the heat making them drowsy, the birdsong and whispering of the trees lulling them to sleep against each other's shoulders.

They woke as the glaring sun died and the canoes were banked abruptly. Stretching and rolling her wrists around, Alice looked around far as she could see, all there was to see were more trees, but to the distance blue-gray smoke wafted languidly into the sky - chimney smoke.

Alice felt her spirits lift, as that meant fireplaces, warmth, beds. Cora also looked reinvigorated.

The Mohicans helped the sisters out of the canoes, followed by the Mohawks. The group, seven in all, appraised the view of the woodland.

Nathaniel cleared his throat. "Down that way is the settlement I was telling' you both about."

He gestured towards the smoky horizon. "We will stop there first. For the most part we know the folks that live in this area, trade pelts with them."

He waved a hand dismissively towards the left. "Bit down that way is the Delaware camp - my father's friends. At least, we reckon that's where they are."

He shrugged, looking unconcerned.

"Lead the way, then," said Cora smilingly, no doubt thrilled to be in civilization again.

The trudge down the coiling trail was very quick as the sun descended and the sky was lit orange. As they approached, they heard children's laughter and the hum of people talking.

Nathaniel explained that while most people had acres of land and no neighbors in site, these people lived relatively close to each other and were on friendly terms with the Delaware and Mohawk who passed their way.

Alice felt her heart quicken at the thought of bathing and falling asleep somewhere that wasn't solid ground. Her lips parted and curved into a smile, unaware of Uncas watching her, an unconscious smile ghosting across his own lips.

Chingachgook edged closer to him. "How do you feel, my son?"

Uncas regarded his father solemnly but warmly. He nodded. "Better. Healing."

"We will leave the women with someone that is trust-worthy for the night, then we will go to the camp. Your wounds must be checked," Chingachgook said sternly in Mohican, acutely eyeing his youngest son.

Uncas shrugged.

He didn't like the idea of leaving the women alone, even though they would be safe. But at the same time the white women could not just saunter into the Delaware camp unannounced and entreat lodgings.

"My son, Uncas," said Chingachgook, somewhat gentler.

Uncas looked at him intently.

"While at the camp, I ask that you take time to heal and reflect. Do not leave the camp for a number of days, until I am certain you are able-bodied again. This is not a request. When the time comes, I wish to speak to you of many things. But first, you will rest."

The party of seven, travel-weary, congregated near the clearing and Nathaniel shouted a greeting.

A cluster of curious faces looked on at them as the sun again began it's downward arc and night fell over them.

* * *

**Hello all of you. This chapter took almost two all day-and-nighters ( i.e- my weeked) to piece together; originally it was two chapters but I decided to lump it all together. My reasoning was that I didn't want you all to be reading Lenape history for two chapters.**

**This chapter came to fruition with two goals in mind. The first, I really wanted to highlight the relationship and bond between Uncas and Nathaniel. Uncas doesn't tend to speak much, he's too much of an introvert but I like to think he would open himself up to his brother occasionally. I also wanted to focus on the fact that Nathaniel has a very good understanding of his brother, and seemingly knows what's on his mind. **

**Secondly, my plan from the beginning of this story almost two years ago was to include the Lenape in some way as their history has always fascinated me. Growing up in NYC we learned a great deal of the eastern woodland tribes in elementary school, but I have always loved the Lenape most of all. I also wanted to share some of the story of William Penn, an historical figure I greatly admire. **

**Please thank again my beta Departed, who offered me honest critique throughout this chapter! I am beyond fortunate to have her sound advice as well as literary prowess. **

**P.S- I kept humming this song as I typed up Alice's flashback about Uncas, Sally's Song by Amy Lee. I think it really suits her. Thank you all for reading!**


	7. Chapter 7

**Disclaimer: **Anything you recognize, I don't own. Anything you don't is from my own imagination.

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_Lost_

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_ChapterSeven_

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Walking up the clearing, Alice felt a blushing awkwardness. She had difficulty remembering when she had ever felt so unrefined or slatternly. _If only I could have at least smoothed my hair or at best washed my hands! _she thought in silent despair. She knew she was being childish, but all her life having impeccable appearance had been drummed into her. She cringed at the thought of how indecent she must have looked.

Turning her head up she took a good look at the people walking up to them. It was difficult to discern in the low light but they appeared to be farmers and housewives; a small number.

"Hello!" called a blonde man who looked to be in his late twenties. He walked quickly up the path and stood, smiling warmly. "Nathaniel, glad to see you!" He had a faint Scottish brogue that Alice instantly warmed to.

Looking around amiably, the man gave a bark of laughter. "From the looks of it you're thinking of starting your own colony."

Nathaniel grinned, turning to the women he gestured with a flourish. "Ladies, may I introduce James Stewart? James, these are the Misses Cora and Alice Munro. You know my father and brother."

He briefly summarized the story with bare minimal details, that his family would stay with the Delaware camp nearby and the Munro women needed a place to bunk down someplace for the time being. The Scotsman nodded agreeably.

Cora raised an elegant eyebrow, studying the young man closely. "Stewart?" she asked in a rather beguiling voice. "A rather auspicious name for a Scotsman, sir."

The Scotsman Stewart blinked owlishly at the elder Munro girl before giving another one of his loud peals of deep laughter, making Alice think of canines again. "There now, lass, I am not of those Stewarts! We took no part in the rebellions."

Chuckling, he turned from a smiling Cora to Alice and she looked down, shuffling her feet.

"The shy one, eh?" She heard him ask. "Quite all right, lass. Nathaniel, I'm assuming they'll be needing a place to stay and.. er… dresses, lady things and such?"

Alice felt her face and neck reddening with mortification, as he had obviously noticed her general lack of hygiene and her dress that was practically brown swathes of rags.

"Nathaniel, Uncas," came the lilting voice of a female from in front of her.

Instinctively Alice looked up at the woman who was now beside Mr. Stewart, wiping her hands on her worn cream colored dress. Her eyes were kind, Alice noticed with some relief.

Tucking a strand of chestnut colored hair behind her ear, she regarded them silently for a moment. "I am Annabel Stewart," she said, her voice mild and Alice caught the cadence of a London accent. "Do the ladies need a place to stay?"

Alice and Cora glanced at each other furtively, trying valiantly to mask their wonderment beneath polite smiles. What could an obviously well-bred young lady be doing on the frontier?

"James is my husband. We own a plot of land not far from here," was her way of explanation, as if knowing their thoughts.

"I am Alice Munro. This is my sister Cora. We are pleased to make your acquaintance, Mr. and Mrs. Stewart," Alice said this in a rush, looking self-consciously at the other people who lingered around the Stewarts, gathering around her.

Annabel inclined her head, studying the two women carefully and smiling. "The pleasure is mine, Miss Alice. Please call me Annabel and I trust you and your sister will consent to stay with us?"

Nodding quietly Alice was glad that Cora and she were soon to be enclosed in a warm location, bathed and (hopefully) decked in clean dresses. But how peculiar that the Stewarts would take them in, relative strangers, and not even ask them why.

Annabel announced, "Gentlemen, you know where our homestead lies. The ladies look exhausted,. Tomorrow when they look presentable and have rested we can all convene at my home. Shall we say around noon?"

The men nodded and murmured their assent. Alice looked at her sister who looked overcome with gratitude.

"Thank you ever so much for your kindness, Mrs. Stewart," said Cora sincerely, seemingly forgetting Annabel's entreaty to call her by her first name. "And yourself, of course, Mr. Stewart. My sister and I are most grateful."

Alice nodded. "We shall endeavor to be of any assistance to you in our stay."

James Stewart unsuccessfully fought his laughter and Alice looked at him, confused.

"Did I say anything untoward?" she asked politely. He shook his head and shared a look with Nathaniel.

Annabel sighed in his direction. "It's called good manners, James." Nevertheless, she smiled warmly at her husband.

"Miss Alice, Miss Cora…" Annabel turned and beckoned them.

The sisters glanced at the men uneasily. They didn't want to leave them. Nathaniel's look was tender as he glanced at Cora.

"It will be alright," he said gently and Alice remembered another night not too long ago when another man had said those exact words to her, putting forth a dauntless façade in the face of a world that was collapsing around them.

Alice, distressed, looked at Uncas and Chingachgook's detached expressions and then beseechingly at Nathaniel.

"Where will you all be?" she asked tremulously. "Where can we find you?"

Nathaniel sighed, rubbing his forehead wearily. "We will be at the Delaware camp not far from here. There really aint that much room for us here. We don't know but the Stewarts and the other families have too many children. We will see you both tomorrow."

With that he embraced Cora briefly and gave Alice a reassuring squeeze on the shoulder before turning and picking up his rifle and hauling his pack, heading down the unlit path.

Alice stared dejectedly at Uncas and Chingachgook, her mouth a stern grimace. It was hard to part ways at this junction, even for a night. Uncas gave her a hint of a smile then turned with his father to follow Nathaniel to the Delaware camp.

Cora also looked troubled but with an air of geniality owing to the fact, or so Alice suspected, that she did not want their host to think the sisters were somehow disparaging their surroundings.

James joined his wife and his eyes danced with mirth as they waited for Cora and Alice.

_How odd, _thought Alice, but with gratification, _he sees none of the bitterness of life…_

* * *

A little over two hours later the two girls were soundly tucked into the bed that was once occupied by the married couple. Tthey were tightly compressed into the far wall as they also had to leave a stretch of room for Annabel. The bed was a touch more ample than Alice would have thought but with three women it would be a narrow fit. James had insisted he bunk down on blankets near the fire, waving aside their embarrassed chagrin.

The last few hours happened in a blur. Annabel had entreated her husband to fill as much water as possible into the simple wooden tub that was lined with metal. The two other visiting families had returned home for the night.

Annabel had remarked to them that after they bathed they would eat their fill of bread and cheese as she could not prepare anything at the moment. But that tomorrow would be better.

James had shouldered his rifle and disappeared outside again, stating he would return in about an hour, wanting to check on his crops for now and make sure nothing was amiss.

The water had been quite tepid and if truth be told, more nippy than they had hoped, but Cora quickly removed her garments and sank blissfully into the alleviating water, tears of relief in her eyes.

Moving quickly, Alice rinsed her sister's stringy, matted hair and massaged her scalp.

"I do apologize, ladies, as I have quite run out of soap, but tomorrow I believe we can begin to make some more." Annabel said, "It is not too very difficult."

As she examined the state of Cora's garments with a slight frown, she bade them be rid of their clothing and wear some of her own for the time being. Alice whole-heartedly agreed, whilst stammering out her gratitude.

Cora then sat by the fire, finger combing her spiraling wet hair and donning Annabel's night gown, Alice looking forward to her own bath. Annabel had leaned close to Alice's ear.

"I think it best if my husband empty the tub and fill it anew with fresh river water. Forgive me, but I think it's been overly long that your sister has bathed and with the dirt and such…"

Alice nodded quickly.

Jerked back to the present, Alice stared at the rough workings of the small cabin ceiling, feeling contentedly warm but with a vague sense of trepidation. She had never been alone in a nightgown in a room with a man who was not her father, granted Mr. Stewart had been cheerful and respectful.

The wife and husband sat at their wooden table, talking in low tones about their crops and what would grow and what they could possibly trade or sell from their little plot of land. Alice caught on some of the discussion.

"The sweet potatoes and squash should yield plentiful this summer, I should hope," murmured Annabel, darning one of her husband's torn shirts by the flickering firelight.

James drank heartily of his tankard of ale and nodded, wiping his mouth. "Aye, but my hopes are for the Indian corn and potatoes."

Alice heard Annabel sigh.

"That corn will be paltry at best. What we should truly do is grow wheat."

James chuckled, as if he found her naïve demeanor endearing. "Growing the wheat will not be that simple, my love," he replied.

"I know," said Annabel. sounding a touch cross. "But if we could clear some more of the field, perhaps a bit of the woodland?…"

"I cannot just encroach in that manner, Annabel," James stated lowly.

"Encroaching onto where? Onto whose land? The Newsom's are somewhat nearby but I highly doubt some stalks of wheat will cast a shadow onto their house, resplendent as it is in grandeur," she said the last bit with a muted degree of scorn.

Alice heard the hint of contempt in Annabel's voice and wondered if the families did not get on. She looked silently at Cora, who also appeared to be listening but her sister only shrugged a slender shoulder carelessly. This did not involve them.

Annabel continued. "If we could at least grow some wheat, why, we could trade. The wheat alone-"

James interrupted her quiet harangue. "I agree, my love, but that would mean clearing much more trees and it is already late summer. An experiment of this sort so late in the season is short-sighted, especially if the frost takes the fruits of our labor."

Annabel had finished with the shirt and folded it neatly on the table, running her fingers distractedly along the rough edges of the fabric. She stared at her husband pensively.

"I don't take your opinions lightly, Annabel. That was my promise to you. I have also thought about wheat. The southern colonies clamor for it. But I think we should stay the course for now. Early next summer I promise you I will clear some more land and we can start."

He leaned back, stroking his chin. "Wheat.." he sighed. James changed the subject. "Are the women settled in? Asleep?"

At the far end of the cabin, Alice curled deeper under the blankets.

Annabel nodded solemnly. "Yes, bathed and fed. Poor souls, they looked positively wild upon their arrival. Perhaps tomorrow we can ask the pertinent questions to Nathaniel. They certainly do not appear to be from around these parts. Or from the colonies, for that matter."

"They talk like you do, my sweet," James said with a grin.

Annabel agreed. "London accents."

Later that night Alice awoke disoriented. It took her a few seconds to realize where she was, cramped as she felt, wedged between Annabel (fast asleep) and Cora who was to the wall. She heard a muffled sort of keening sound and looked abruptly at her sister, blinking confusedly.

Cora was encased entirely in blankets, her dark head turned into the crease of her elbow facing the cabin wall. Her body shook with silent tears.

Alice felt a pang of despair and, looking quickly at their sleeping hostess, inched towards her sister in the darkness and wrapped a pale arm around her. "Shhh…" she breathed. "Do not fret, sister," she whispered. "All is well." Their eyes met. "I am with you."

Cora choked back another racking sob, her expression stark with grief. Their hands laced under the rough blankets and Alice lay her cheek on her sister's damp forehead. "What is it?" asked Alice quietly.

"Duncan," was all she said, the pooling tears streaming down her face.

* * *

Chingachgook and his sons entered the Delaware camp under the obscurity of night.

Treading light-footed and silent, they were nonetheless expected. The Mohawks had melted back into the woods before nearing the camp.

The dome-shaped wigwams dotted along the trees, two longhouses at opposite ends. Small fires were lit throughout the center of the camp in a row for the inhabitants to share. People were milling about, eyeing them inquiringly, but as their presence became known, there were calls of recognition.

The elder Mohican stopped with the younger men as they were approached by a tall man who wore the clothing that was customary to the Delaware, breech-clout and leggings. He was also draped in a shawl made of beaver skin, likely to ward off the slight chill of the dark summer night.

They all waited until they were acknowledged.

"Chingachgook, welcome," said the man in Delaware, solemn. He spoke out of principle first to the older man, in deference to his seniority. There was pause. "You were spotted from the river."

Nathaniel racked his memory a little frantically to recall the tall, somewhat heavyset man in his early 50's.

His gaze found the lined tattoos on his lower cheeks and he remembered his name, thankfully, just as the Lenape's eyes cut to him.

Nathaniel bowed his head. "Hopocan, thank you for the welcome."

The man in question nodded shortly. He looked at Uncas and arched a black eyebrow.

"You bring tides of war, then, Chingachgook? Your son has seen injuries."

Without bothering to say anything else to the young men, he called over some women, with instructions to find accommodations for Chingachgook's sons, as well as sustenance and clothing.

The women came over and talked animatedly with each other as they examined Nathaniel and prodded and poked Uncas, assessing his wounds and checking for any impairment.

One of the younger women stepped up to Uncas, striding soundlessly in her deerskin moccasins. Her eyes were bright in the firelight as she examined Uncas's ribs and arms, catching his eyes she smiled lightly and gestured the brothers to the center of the camp.

"I will see you both when the sun comes," stated Chingachgook sternly to the men as they were slowly led away.

Nathaniel looked irritated at being dismissed abruptly, and was led to a wigwam inhabited by a small family, Uncas to one of the longhouses to be treated for his injuries. For this, Chingachgook's heart was glad.

Later that evening found Hopocan and Chingachgook in a rather spacious wigwam, smoking a clay tobacco pipe and discussing the past summer.

Shucks of dried spotted corn as well as herbs hung down the sides of the wigwam, adding a pleasant fragrance to the air. The two men had known each other for many years, and Chingachgook felt comfortable speaking with him, or just reminiscing.

"That older boy of yours, " Hopocan had asked baldly. "Is he still mouthy?" To which Chingachgook nodded. "Not to me, however."

"Your youngest… she married when the snow fell deep last winter, I was told?" Chingachgook inquired this. Hopocan had nodded with a pleased expression, adding that she had recently given birth to a son.

Currently, Chingachgook was explaining the recent days, their brush with the murderous Huron on the George Road, the English women they were now saddled with, and subsequently Uncas' injuries.

Hopocan sat quietly at an interlude in their discussion of the younger boy. His puffs of smoke from his pipe were slow and languorous, his black eyes intelligent as he considered this point of the story.

"He ran like a fool after that white girl," said Chingachgook after a beat.

Hopocan cocked his head to the side, handing the pipe to his old friend. He noted an unusual but definite edge to the Mohican's voice.

Chingachgook's puffs were shorter on the pipe. "He thinks me old and feeble, I suppose, assuming I do not to notice how he stares after her like a simpleton."

Hopocan gave a momentary smile. "If she is as weak-willed as you hint, this will only be a passing infatuation. All men go through this sort of distraction in their youth. Is he much beyond twenty summers?"

"Twenty-two," grunted Chingachgook. "He should have started a family of his own by now."

The Lenape nodded his assent. "And your white son? He is at least twenty-five summers."

Chingachgook turned the pipe carefully over in his weathered hands. "My white son has found a mate in the moon girl's sister. I approve. It is a good match. She has a strong spirit that called to his."

Turning the discussion back to the unlikely younger pair, Chingachgook frowned.

"The moon-haired girl is not strong. I fear my youngest son is chasing after shadows and dust. I fear she will return to her homeland and leave a wound in my son's heart. He should turn his eye towards what is expected of him, the re-growth of our tribe and a Delaware woman. Not a _Yengeese_ girl who knows nothing of our traditions, knows nothing of survival."

Hopocan regarded his friend with more curiosity than sympathy. They both knew a man's heart could not be governed.

"I understand, my friend," said Hopocan lightly. "Uncas should know his responsibilities. But we were both young once. Many, many moons ago." They both chuckled at this.

Hopocan continued. "At this point, his heart beats hot and fast. Young men are slaves to their senses, to fleeting things such as beauty and passion. It will wane."

Hipocan said this with certainty, but Chingachgook was silent anew, watching the tobacco smoke waft upwards and out of the opening at the top-center of the dome.

"Soon he will find all this and more, a firm foundation with a Delaware woman." The Lenape said this to reassure his friend.

Hopocan sighed and leaned back into furs and hides, closing his eyes briefly. "We must remember to be compassionate to the young."

* * *

Thank you for reading. Truly, you all mean so much to me, the messages and words of encouragement. Also, please thank Departed again, who usually goes out of her way to help me in almost every situation.

Well, I am currently working on chapter 8. I devote most nights and weekends to this story. Also, please keep in mind that I know almost nothing of farming (city girl!) so if anything sounds a little off in this story with the farm talk, forgive me. Please R&R


	8. Chapter 8

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_Lost_

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_ChapterEight_

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Cora awoke slowly the next morning, turning lazily for a few moments. She vaguely wondered why the ground didn't feel as hard as it had been when, quite abruptly, in a sudden burst of clarity, the memories bombarded her.

Bolting upright in the Stewart's bed, Cora looked frantically around the small cabin for her younger sister.

Holding the blankets around her, she slowly got to her feet. Wincing as her bare feet met the rough wood of the floor, Cora looked cautiously around. The cabin appeared vacant of the other householders, although she could hear muted voices outside. Female voices.

Looking at the edge of the bed, Cora saw an assemblage of neatly folded garments.

Quickly perusing them she saw that Annabel had set out for her a chemise and a homespun dress. It was plain but had been previously laundered.

Cora trailed her fingers through the folds of the coral colored dress. She did not notice any stays or slip on the pile and sighed, thinking the last month may have been some delirium induced by a fever, perhaps.

Perhaps she _was_ still in Portman Square and had fallen under the duress of a fever. Perhaps she fell down the steps and was lying in her own bed, senseless at the moment, or a horse kicked her head, or perhaps-

"Cora!"

She almost gave a yelp as she turned quickly, holding the dress and blanket to her as if to ward off this unknown danger. Her wide, dark eyes noticed her sister coming in, gently leaving the cabin door open a crack to allow sunlight and gracing her with a warm smile.

Cora relaxed her posture, noticing her sister already donning her light blue frock.

"Sister," said Alice almost brightly, "Dress yourself quickly and hasten yourself outside to eat. Then you can assist us - Annabel and I are making soap!"

Cora was taken aback by this. "Since when do you know how to… make soap?" she asked quizzically.

Alice shook her head.

That morning, her hair had been carelessly braided around her head and the sudden movement caused sunlit strands of it to fall loosely around her face and shoulders.

"I never before attempted soap-making. I always had it purchased and delivered in England, of course," said Alice in a teasing voice because this was an obvious fact. "But I am happy to be of some use. You should join us, after you eat something. You look pallid."

"How is it made?" asked Cora, her interest perked.

"Wood ash and animal fat," said Alice matter-of-factly. Cora's face screwed up in disgust, causing Alice to giggle.

"Disgusting concoction," muttered Cora, although she thought, rather philosophically, that it would be more economical to produce one's own crude soap than to wait for shipments from England to hopefully make it that far out. Or to pay some exorbitant amount from a shopkeeper in the city.

Carefully stepping up to her sister, Alice attempted to unwrap the blanket that Cora clutched around herself.

Cora shook her head fervently.

"The husband…" She said in a low voice, peering at the minuscule window to the front of the cabin, even though it was covered with wax paper.

Alice picked up the chemise.

"Cora, Mr. Stewart has gone to the neighboring homestead for a few hours. We are quite alone," she said patiently. "Make haste and dress. I shan't cease my bothersome nagging until you have had breakfast!"

Cora gingerly took the chemise from her sister and quietly told her she would dress herself and bade her return outdoors to help their hostess.

Alice gave her a dimmed smile, sensing her mood, and quietly left.

Cora put her fingertips to her forehead with a wince, in wonderment over why her head was paining her so. She recalled the previous night, crying for hours while Alice held her, before she had fallen into an exhausted slumber.

She had cried for Duncan and her father. But if truth be told, the agony over Duncan was the sharpest barb to her heart.

Her angry words to him at the fort - her rejecting his marriage proposal… She cried in horrible guilt as she recalled the shock and pain painted across his face at her refusal. And she had felt her heart almost cleave in half at the memory of his screams as the flames began to consume him.

It had been unbearable.

She had curled to the side like a wounded animal, gasping and sobbing and digging her nails into the skin above her heartbeat, wishing more than anything else in this world that it had been _her _heart that had melted into nothingness in the Huron camp. Not his.

_It should have been me_, was all she had mindlessly chanted throughout the night to herself, _it should have been me… _

She reflected now, fighting down tears, that there was so much _loneliness_ in guilt and shame. Because despite ever protestation to the contrary, nobody she knew could ever possibly know what it felt like to watch their childhood friend die in their place, or live with the darkness that would forever shadow their heart.

* * *

Nathaniel walked out of the wigwam to find the morning warm and inviting, the smell of food invading his senses. _Or maybe I'm just hungry._

Stretching, he ambled over to one of the bubbling pots at the center of the camp and peered inside. He nodded appreciatively. It was a type of venison stew. He gulped down several ladle full of it then wiped his mouth.

Pausing for a long, distracted moment, Nathaniel pondered his next course of action.

He needed to bathe, and badly. He should, of course, attend to his father first, however. Also check on Uncas, although at the moment he had not the faintest notion as to where his brother was. Most likely resting, as their father had explicitly told Uncas to get his wounds tended to and then repose. And then the sisters… It would be a walk of over a mile to the Stewart's homestead and Annabel had requested his presence at noon.

Looking up and squinting at the glaring sun, Nathaniel was able to ascertain that mid-day would not be for another few hours. He could do all of these things and then reach Cora by noon.

Nodding in satisfaction, Nathaniel turned around and scanned the perimeter of the village for his father, and saw him crouching with Hopocan in the sunlight outside a wigwam. They appeared to be conversing as he approached.

"The boy can do it," said Hopocan in Delaware, nodding at Nathaniel as he drew nearer.

Nathaniel stopped before them and stared. Do _what _and who was he referring to as boy?

At his silence, Chingachgook threw him a sharp and reproving look. Nathaniel grit his teeth yet gave a shallow bow, murmuring words of greeting to his father and Hopocan.

If Nathaniel recalled correctly, in his fifteenth summer he had flashed a defiant eye and tone to the Lenape man and now, ten years later, the man had not forgotten.

Either way, Nathaniel knew that Hopocan was a good man and warrior. A good friend and father. He had a rather acerbic wit and used his words with a bit of irony. Nathaniel could relate to that. Hopocan constantly goaded him whenever he was more than likely bored.

"Hopocan," he said smoothly. "What can I assist you with today?"

The older man's eyes were disinterested as he scrutinized him then he waved dismissively around the camp.

"At some point today get started on the fishweirs and check the traps with the other men. We had set up traps for otters and wild ducks."

Nathaniel bowed his head in consent then politely inquired in what direction the traps would lay, and that he would attend to it immediately.

"I said you could do it _at some point, _and did you not hear me say the traps are for otter and ducks? I think it obvious, then, that you must head for the river." The Lenape's voice was dripping with bored disdain.

Nathaniel felt an angry flush creep up his neck then covertly snuck a look at his father who was stone-faced. He knew, however, that Chingachgook was slightly amused as his friend derided him.

"Of course. I will see how my brother is first and then attend to the traps and fishweirs," Nathaniel said respectfully and waited until the men nodded, his father solemnly and Hopocan disinterestedly.

Stalking away, he walked towards the other end of the camp then stopped by a group of women who were sitting on the dusty ground, weaving rush mats and scraping the hair from hides using bones. He inquired over his brother's placement in the camp and was directed to one of the wigwams near the longhouse.

Walking inside, he found Uncas sitting up on hides, the young girl from last night, who had led him to the longhouse, sitting next to him patiently.

She was holding a clay pot that Nathaniel knew to contain melted bear fat and maple syrup - he could smell it - and also had a basket of cornbread by her side.

Inside the shadowy wigwam an old woman sat near the far end, pounding corn into flour.

They all greeted each other politely, but Uncas looked a little strained as the girl continued to badger him to eat more.

Finally, Uncas took the pot and dipped the cornbread in and swallowed a mouthful.

He nodded his brother over to partake of it, but Nathaniel said in Mohican that he had already eaten. Uncas threw him a look that clearly read - _Well, stay anyway. _

Peering curiously at the girl who looked to be around 17, Nathaniel remembered who she was. It was Tankawun. The last time they had seen her, she had been 12, in the winter camp when his family and he had stayed with the Delaware.

She had been a nice girl and sweet-tempered, but a little spoiled, and she had seemed to always be mooning over Uncas. This had caused the boys endless fits of hilarity together in their wigwam as they told their father how little Tankawun would dog their footsteps around the snowy camp, her demure eyes raised fixedly upon Uncas. Chingachgook had shaken his head in annoyance at them as Nathaniel re-enacted her skulking and laughed at his embarrassed brother.

Looking at her now, Nathaniel knew he should not be surprised that she had changed so much. Her look was still pretty and pleasant but much less child-like, her face leaner. She had also grown taller.

"Tankawun," Nathaniel said warmly in Delaware - which was a different dialect - kneeling on the ground opposite his brother. "I hardly recognized you. How is your family?"

She grinned at him and motioned for him to eat before replying. "I am well, also my family; Mannitto has smiled upon us. I am trying to make your stubborn brother eat! He insists on cleaning his rifle or tries to leave instead of resting."

They all chatted for awhile longer, sharing the cornbread.

Then Tankawun rose to assist her grandmother and sauntered to her side.

The family consisted of only women as her father had been killed by soldiers several years before. She was the eldest of four girls. There was also the mother and grandmother.

Nathaniel could not even fathom living with so many of the volatile creatures known as women, and could already imagine the wigwam erupting in arguments constantly.

Cringing internally, he turned to Uncas and addressed him in their native tongue. "Are you feeling any better? Everything mending?"

Uncas nodded, adding, "Yes, brother, Hopocan was here shortly before you arrived and requested that the women give me… what do you call those roots, for joint pain?"

Nathaniel shrugged, looking annoyed at the mention of the snide Lenape man. He noticed Uncas furtive expression. "What?" he demanded.

"Nothing," said Uncas, looking amused. "It's just… he refers to you as 'the boy' and 'the rooster'- Stop it, brother," ordered Uncas as Nathaniel drew himself up in pique. "He delights in saying those things because you become so affected by it, and because he knows you would not risk our father's anger by answering back."

Uncas leaned down to his side and supported himself on his elbow.

"Besides," said Uncas, his expression placid. "Father told me that Hopocan likes you best out of the two of us - he recognizes himself as a youth in you. He is more fond of you." He gestured towards Nathaniel with his hands open, as if this were an offering.

Mollified, Nathaniel looked at the other man with affection and leaned back onto his haunches.

"I have to go now, brother. I have to take a swim first, then check on the women," he said in English, casting Uncas a sidelong look.

There was a pregnant pause.

"Do you think Father can be persuaded to allow you to come?" asked Nathaniel.

Uncas said nothing for a long moment before moving the basket and pot to the side. He looked up. "No. I told Father I would rest as much as possible. Maybe in a week or more."

Nathaniel nodded slowly, then rose and backed out of the wigwam, bidding farewell to the occupants.

As he walked out, he noticed Tankawun had reappeared at Uncas's side to continue her vigil over him. _That was fast, _thought Nathaniel dryly.

* * *

At noon the torrid sun beat down mercilessly on Alice Munro, who had been toiling outdoors since shortly after dawn.

Wiping her perspiring hands on her borrowed dress, Alice shaded her eyes with her hands and looked at Annabel.

"I have put the tallow in, Annabel." Alice gestured towards the pot that was standing over a small fire.

Annabel had insisted that candle making should be done outdoors in the summer as the heat would be unbearable in the cabin.

Annabel craned her neck around from where she sat sorting through a pail of potatoes, tossing out the bad ones. "Good, Alice," she said. "Now allow it to melt. Then you will lower the wick. I will assist you."

They smiled at each other and Alice felt quite pleased with herself.

Sitting down next to her, they continued to sort through the potatoes which would eventually be their midday meal; the potatoes would be boiled and mashed with milk and butter, and dribbled with honey.

Annabel leaned closer to the blonde woman without stopping her movements or looking at anyone in particular. Her voice was low as she directed questions to Alice.

"Alice, is your sister unwell? She looks most fatigued and despondent. My husband and I do not believe in asking questions for questioning's sake… but please tell me what can be done to alleviate your sister's pain. James told me before he left that she cried for the majority of the night."

Alice glanced at Annabel, marveling at her care and sympathy. She had already taken them in. Nothing else needed to be done on her part as far as Alice was concerned.

Looking to her left, Alice examined Cora, who, at the moment, sat to the side, pale and drawn, peeling turnips for the vegetable broth that would be included in the evening meal.

She could not think of anything to say to her sister, so she sighed and looked down.

Rolling a small potato pensively she murmured, "We lost a friend. A dear one. He left us in a most cruel manner. The pain is unbearable for my sister."

Annabel's eyes filled with compassion as she gazed at Cora for a long moment.

"I shall endeavor not to mention it again then, Alice. Especially to your sister, locked in her grief as she is. Thank you for sharing this with me."

Both women jumped as they heard a call from down the path that led to the river.

Nathaniel walked purposefully up to them, looking surprised at seeing Alice being so industrious. His eyes looked around for Cora as he asked them how they were.

Alice saw Cora rise and walk towards them. "What's wrong with her?" asked Nathaniel as he observed her. He sounded concerned.

"She… did not sleep well," replied Alice in a low voice.

In theory this was true, so Alice did not feel too bad. Besides, it was her sister's place to speak of it, not hers.

Reaching them, Cora gave a tight smile to Nathaniel as he put his hand on her cheek and scanned her face. "Alice tells me you did not sleep much," he said.

Throwing her sister a startled look, Cora looked confused. Alice tried to convey to her with her eyes that this was all she told him, not of the hours spent sobbing.

Nathaniel looked from Cora who appeared mortified, to Alice who was grimacing, and Annabel who was the only one who was expressionless.

"Nathaniel," said Annabel calmly. "Have you eaten? We are making potato pancakes."

Nathaniel nodded distractedly, still eyeing the elder Munro girl. "I ate, and the mid-day meal should be for you ladies, I reckon."

"Then supper?" Annabel persisted. "We are making johnny-cakes, sweet potatoes and the Lancaster's have traded with us for one of their swine. As such we will also have baked ham. Also vegetable broth."

Nathaniel looked genuinely interested in this wide array and selection of food and readily agreed.

Alice's thoughts were drawn to Uncas and she blurted out, "And also invite… also… your family," she finished lamely. She blushed and Nathaniel gave her a direct, piercing look.

"My Father may not be able to attend, but I will ask him either way. My brother," he put slight emphasis on this one word. "I know can't make it seein' as our father forbade him from leaving the camp for the time being. Least until he heals. Uncas reckons in another week or two he can leave the camp and visit you all," he finished quietly, watching Alice.

Alice felt so distraught at the news that possibly a fortnight could pass with Uncas unable to make an appearance, that she bit down on her tongue hard to keep from saying anything foolish.

_I want to see his face… _she thought, then instantly chided herself. Putting on a forced yet brave smile, Alice addressed Nathaniel.

"We will have to make do, I suppose. As you can see we have been busy all morning and most likely will be until the afternoon.. Supper may be delayed but we are most happy that you will join us."

Alice gave a dignified nod and Annabel and Nathaniel shared a glance, looking curiously amused.

"Making candles, I see," he said, changing the subject. Annabel replied that Alice was in mid-process and how that morning she had made soap with only brief instructions. Nathaniel looked suitably impressed.

The rest of the day passed quickly for the women. Alice had never truly cooked anything before, especially not a large meal. But what she lacked in experience she made up with effort.

Cora's spirits seemed to rally with Nathaniel's visit and she was obliging and willing to help throughout the day. She spoke animatedly with Annabel and James once he returned from his sojourn with the Lancaster's. James seemed quite content and whistled while he worked his farm and the women cooked.

Nathaniel arrived, as promised, for supper which fell quite late that night. He was alone and they were all tired, but the ambience was serene and good-humored. After saying grace, they spoke of inconsequentialities and after supper was finished and the table was cleared, they all sat outside.

Nathaniel and James lit a small bonfire and they all sat around it until it was near midnight, conversing and watching the fire die slowly as the moon and stars twinkled soundlessly down upon them.

* * *

Throughout the days that followed, everyone settled into a relaxed routine.

James Stewart arose early to tend to his farm and hunt for whatever game he could find, sometimes visiting other farms, other times families visiting them.

The three women also arose early and did their parts around the cabin, mending and cooking. Alice had a hard time remembering everything she was learning, apt apprentice though she was, and complained to James that she wished she could write down everything so as to commit it to memory.

James seemed to find this deeply comical, but later that afternoon, he presented her with a copybook, a quill, and ink made from coal dust.

As he handed her the gifts, he smiled impishly as she stammered out her gratitude and said, "There now, lass. Write to your heart's content so as not to forget these days."

The Stewart's lived a peaceful, simple, happy life. The couple complemented each other quite well. Annabel was very shrewd and far-thinking. Her mind was first-rate and she kept everything organized as she had an aversion to disorderliness. She was also very kind.

James, on the other hand, benefited from this and also brought his heart and humor into everyday situations. He would pick wildflowers for the women, procure little sweet biscuits and trinkets from neighbors and peddlers and hide them, urging his giggling wife to find the gifts around the cabin.

True to Annabel's word, not once did the Stewart's ask the sister's anything about their past life, what had led them to their Valley, and when they would leave.

If either of them were jolted by a sudden bad memory and were saddened, James would sing bawdy songs or merely parody something until they all laughed long and hard.

On the fifth day of residing with the Stewart's, they all walked about an hour's journey along the river to another farm owned by the Lancaster's, a cheerful couple with four children, the youngest being an infant and the only boy.

It was there that Alice and Cora encountered the Newsoms.

Priscilla and Gregory Newsom arrived shortly after the Stewarts and the sisters, as Mr. Newsom had to return some farm equipment he had borrowed from the Lancasters.

It was apparent immediately to Alice that Mrs. Newsom was a bothersome shrew who kept her henpecked husband on an extremely short leash. Alice had never seen a more diminutive or defeated looking little man. It was uncomfortable watching his wife (in all her ample girth) bark orders at her wisp of a husband.

Mrs. Newsom eyed the sisters critically and her responses to their polite inquiries were abrupt and chilly. She was a large, solid woman with auburn colored hair severely knotting at the nape of her neck. She practically towered over her shorter, slighter pale haired husband.

"Are you from the Valley originally, Mr. and Mrs. Newsom?" asked Alice, trying to make conversation.

"Surely not," retorted the wife before her husband even had a chance to speak. "My family landed in New England over a century ago. They had purchased common stock in England before the voyage and my family owned a great deal of land in Massachusetts Bay."

"Well, pray tell us what became of said land?" asked Annabel archly, apparently tiring early of the woman's typical airs.

Mrs. Newsom scowled.

"My father made a series of bad business ventures when I was young…" She did not finish the sentence, but Alice understood. What men of every class feared - debt - had robbed her family of their property and life of leisure.

"My family was thenceforth compelled to move further west," Mrs. Newsom continued as the husbands walked off together, leaving the women outside in a cluster. "But the land out here is paltry at best and what is worse, swarming with savages."

Alice looked up at Mrs. Newsom, shocked by her vehemence. The word _savage _was starting to aggravate her. It was such an ignorant slur to refer to all red men as barbarians.

"The Delaware tribe upriver seem quite peaceful," said Cora, not bothering to disguise her frowning disapproval.

"And there are aborigines in New England, surely," added Annabel with barely concealed acrimony.

"The peasants out here actually _mingle_ with the savages, however," said the older woman disdainfully. "They do business with them, perhaps even go so far as to reside with them in their filthy smoke holes."

Alice looked away, feeling mounting dislike for the woman. Now she could see why Annabel didn't like her, why she referred to her as _Mrs. Nuisance _derisively.

Mrs. Lancaster drew up to the women a little wearily and invited them in for tea, having stayed in the sidelines for the entirety of the discussion. Her daughters played in the dirt at their feet with corn husk dolls, her infant son tugging impatiently at her bodice.

"No thank you, Margaret," replied Annabel, giving a tight but genuine smile to her friend. "The ladies and I were just leaving. Please do me the favor of letting my husband know we await him at home. I would be most grateful."

Giving the vexing Mrs. Newsom the barest nod of her head, Annabel walked back down the trail towards her own home, her head held high and the sister scurrying after her, having made hurried words of farewell.

Later that night, Alice scribbled in her copybook by the candlelight after the women had retired, and James snored softly from his sleeping place by the hearth.

Alice was trying to make it a habit of writing down, every night, any useful information she had come across that day.

Nibbling on the feathered tip of the quill pensively, she dipped it in ink and began to jot down some sentences, striving to keep the scratch of quill on parchment as minimal as possible.

_Rhubarb and pinkroot for stomach pains. _

_Black walnuts make ink. _

She could not think of anything else, then had a sudden mischievous thought and scribbled -

_Madam Nuisance is a nag__. _

Giggling, she stopped her writing as her thoughts were not lady-like concerning the older woman. _Shrew, _she thought instead, _biddy… _

Blowing out the candle, she joined the other women in the now familiar bed. Alice anchored her arm around her beloved older sister and fell asleep with a contented sigh.

* * *

Almost two weeks had passed since Uncas and his family had joined the Lenape camp.

Uncas calculated that it was the beginning of September, even though the Delaware had no need for calendars. It was simply a habit as he had dealt with the whites so much in his life.

It was a very hot afternoon.

Uncas sat at the riverbank with his brother about a half-mile from the camp, conversing and performing some small chores. Nathaniel was fixing a harpoon from a bony antler for when they were to go fishing, and Uncas was threading hemp together to repair fishnets.

This in itself was typically women's work, but since he could not hunt for the time being or exert himself, he was content to help out with meager things. His strength had returned and tomorrow, he thought, he could join in the hunt and fishing.

Nathaniel had spent part of almost everyday at the Stewart's visiting Cora, and Nathaniel was currently reporting to him what life was like at the Stewart farm.

"The sister's have been learnin' to cook and help alongside the farm. From the looks of it Cora gets along well with James and helps him check the crops, also fish. Alice has formed a deep friendship with Annabel. James tells me they are inseparable."

Uncas felt content to know that the Munro women were staying with such good people, but he found it hard to fathom that Alice would show an interest in homestead activities.

"Alice helps out? She cooks?" asked Uncas dubiously as he looped and crossed the hemp threads casually.

Nathaniel nodded an affirmative.

"First day I was there she had made soap and candles and cooked all day. It was Cora that was moping and looked worn to the bone. By the looks of it she'd been crying." He shrugged. "It passed eventually."

Uncas shook his head silently, marveling at the thought of Alice doing all those things she most likely never dreamed in London she would one day do.

Nathaniel grinned at his brother and set the harpoon down on his lap.

"James told me he gave Alice some book to write in. She says she's forgetful and wants to record the recipes and instructions… and he says that she spends a good deal of time in the evenings scribbling secret things and laughing to herself. What a girl!"

Nathaniel chuckled, and was secretly pleased to note that his brother looked helplessly charmed by the little details he was adding about Alice. _Let's move this forward a bit. _

"I need you to come with me to the Stewarts today. We'll have supper there. Harvest time will be here soon and James needs our help around the farm, seeing as you're planning' on winterin' with the Delaware and I reckon they'll move to the winter camp."

Nathaniel said this with great seriousness but knew he was being duplicitous. What he really wanted was for Alice and Uncas to talk. That was all.

The truth was that he could tell Alice longed for Uncas; he saw it every time he visited how instinctively she looked around, her expression hungry and excited for a split second, before she put up her guard again.

Even Cora noticed. He recalled the conversation earlier the previous day when they had stood on a grassy knoll, watching Alice gather wild strawberries from a small patch and bundle them into her skirts. Nathaniel thought she had looked exceedingly lovely with her golden hair framing her face, radiant in the sunlight. But not as lovely as Cora.

Cora had leaned into him and whispered that Alice often daydreamed when she should be alert. When shaken from her reverie, she looked confused and disconsolate and would refuse to admit she was upset.

Uncas did not agree nor disagree to that, only concentrated on the net and shrugged, looking impassive.

After a pause he said, "Tonight, all will gather in the longhouse to feast and dance for success in the hunt. We cannot go to the Stewart's tonight. Hopocan and Father wish for us to be here."

"Really?" asked Nathaniel interestedly. "Why?"

Uncas gave him an exasperated look. "Do you really wish to question Hopocan? You know how he likes to bother with you."

Nathaniel nodded with a touch of a smirk. "Earlier he was complaining that only I would think to bring Mohawks so close to the camp. We've traded with those two Mohawks and they did us a favor by bringing us within range of the camp."

"I agree," said Uncas, checking the knots on the net carefully. "But the Mohawks don't make the friendliest neighbors to Lenape, especially the ones up North."

Uncas pulled the hemp threads taut and was apparently satisfied with his handiwork as he set the net down carefully onto the moist, mossy bank. He looked at the water carefully until Nathaniel nudged him.

"What is it, brother?" asked Nathaniel affably. Uncas picked up a smooth, flat stone and tossed it across the stream, watching it skip three times.

"Wapashuwi invited me as her _honored guest_ among her family, tonight at the feast," Uncas said in a low voice.

Nathaniel's mind drew a blank. "Who's Wapashuwi? Father's friend?"

Uncas shook his head, his black hair glinting blue in the sunlight. His expression was unreadable. "Tankawun's grandmother."

Nathaniel stared. "Little Tankawun's grandmother?" he demanded. "Why you and not Father? Ahh…" He grimaced in sudden realization at the implication.

"Clever girl.." he muttered.

They both knew that Uncas could not refuse Wapashuwi's request. She was a village elder and quite respected. It may have been different if Tankawun had asked her mother to solicit Uncas's presence - he could have politely shrugged off. Now he could not.

They also knew that this would be interpreted as a sign of affection between Uncas and Tankawun.

"Has she explained herself to you? Have you told her your affections lie elsewhere?" demanded Nathaniel.

"She has been hinting at it for a few days now, and now her grandmother will as well. I have also conveyed to her that I do not wish to marry - not now, at least," replied Uncas, stone-faced. Nathaniel was glad to hear it.

"But still…" Uncas's voice sounded less certain. "You know Father would be pleased. Tankawun's Father, Eluwak, was respected by so many. He was given his name for his fierceness in battle. This was before the Yengeese soldiers killed him."

The brother's looked at each other, in a complete and mutual understanding at the entangled and problematic situation.

Steely black eyes met determined blue irises for a long, meaningful moment.

"Uncas," asked Nathaniel, his voice tenacious. "Do you want Alice Munro?"

Uncas's visage colored with more anger than abashment. "That's not -"

"Do you, brother?" He cut Uncas off.

Uncas sounded exasperated "It's not that -"

"It's a simple question. Yes or no will suffice," interjected Nathaniel again.

Then he started in surprise when Uncas rose to his feet as silent and quick as a deer. For a moment, he thought Uncas would retort the way they use to as boys - fists meeting flesh.

But Uncas only stared at him long and hard before speaking slowly, annunciating every word.

"You still think like a white man. I have responsibilities, brother. I am the last of a dying people. My burden to bear is that my choices cannot be mine alone. I have a duty to our ancestors, to replenish our tribe. Where can a white girl be included in this?" He shook his head tiredly.

Nathaniel knew he had to give up trying, for now at least. He acquiesced and stood up; they looked at each other awkwardly.

"Let us go. The feast begins at nightfall." Uncas pointed to a canoe. "Let us take the _muxul _and catch some fish since we're here."

Uncas threw him a ribbing smile, a rarity on his face. "Then Hopocan can leave you in peace for one night. Imagine that."

"The Master of Life is good, then," said Nathaniel, echoing their father, and laughed collectively with his brother.


	9. Chapter 9

_-----_

_Lost_

_-----_

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_ChapterNine_

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It was a wet, windy dawn when Alice roused herself from an odd and frightening dream.

She sat up, her heart thudding as she tried to remember the exact details of the nightmare, then sought to banish it from her mind when the memories finally separated from her cloudy, sleep induced haze.

Shivering due to rattled nerves, she suspected, Alice rose quickly and found James had already left for the day.

His rifle was also gone, so Alice deduced that he had gone on an early hunting trip. Or perhaps he was just bored when he awoke, it could have been the latter. It was not uncommon for James to leave and go hunting when work was done around the farm; to go shoot squirrels or small game for supper. Sometimes he would come back to an irritated wife -empty handed- after several hours.

He enjoyed his rambling, to be sure.

Soundlessly dressing quickly into her frayed blue frock as the other two women slept, Alice stepped to the hearth and stirred the porridge that had been simmering for most of the night, then set it out onto the table in its cast iron pot for Annabel and Cora to consume later in the morning. Alice also set out some cider.

Acting on a strange impulse, Alice grabbed the copybook, quill and ink bottle and walked silently into the vibrant dawn that was ocean of sky, orange and purple hues embracing her.

She settled herself onto a damp fallen log facing the woodland and folded her hands neatly on the copybook for a few distracted minutes, then carefully set the little ink bottle on a raised stump. The air was misty with the early morning shower than had desisted not long before.

Alice felt something stirring in her but did not know what it was or what to make of it.

She had been living in the colonies now for some time and was becoming accustomed to its nonconformity. Everything was so different.

Looking down Alice noticed that she was barefoot, and she had not even noticed it, lost as she was to her musings.

Alice's veins coursed with shock, dismay and giddiness as she curled her toes around the cold, damp grass. She felt wicked, indeed!

Finally deciding that nobody around truly cared about her lack of proper shoes, she opened her book and dipped her quill and began to write.

_Last night I dreamed that I was standing on a busy road, looking at the darkness leading to a deep woodland. I do not know why I was so fixated on the darkness in my dream, I was frightened but determined to see…. something. As if I dreaded what was there but knew I must complete this mission? I know not. In my dream a man with eyes that were wild and too bright to be human approached me and entreated me to look inside a sack he held open. I refused and kept a steady gaze on the darkness. I heard a piercing scream and looked back to see him slit my sister's throat as she stood beside me. Her blood spattered me. The sack he held had fallen and inside was swarming with maggots and flies. Instead of fleeing I turned my gaze back to the darkness between the trees, during which time the man who was not human ran to me and struck my head with a long blade hatchet. I fell and died._

Alice felt slightly sickened but oddly relieved to put down the dream on parchment.

Thumbing through the previous pages, Alice smiled faintly as she read recipes or just observations she had made throughout the day.

She also wrote down her sentiments in small, cramped sentences. Her opinion of the families around them - most favorable with the glaring exception of the Newsom's - what the weather was like. She read one passage:

_Unless my eyes deceive me, there is a little bird that inhabits these woods with a green breast. But I cannot be so mistaken as I have seen it more than once. Green is such a grand color. Cora insists I am wrong, that it is yellow breasted bird. There are so many strange animals. There are these rodents that have black across half their faces. As if they were wearing masks to a masquerade. James says they are called raccoons. _

Leafing through some more pages, she glanced at the previous night's entry and Alice's eyes darted around her before she hunched her shoulders and leaned down to read-

_Every night I pray to my Maker for guidance and strength. But the sadness I feel envelops me completely. I long to see him. Perhaps this is for the best as we are so very different. But I see his black eyes behind my eyelids whenever I succumb to sleep. _

Alice read the paragraph twice and considered ripping the page out and disposing of it, but found she could not. She carefully began to write on the next page.

_The best methods for preserving beans are salting, pickling, drying. Descriptions to follow in the next few days._

_Walnut sap is good for sprains._

_I will ask his brother to take me to see him. _

* * *

The feast in honor of the upcoming hunt began after the sun had set.

The revelers looked resplendent. The women in their finest doe-skin dresses and decked in wampum, their hair smoothed with bear grease and all had red dots on their cheeks made from the juice of crabapples.

The men had feathers tied to their long hair, as well as spiky porcupine quills. They had darkened their faces and chests with paint made from walnut bark

In the center a fire was lit and drummers beat out a velocious rhythm as the young hunters danced around the flames, crouching and leaping with their bows and arrows in hand.

Uncas sat near the center watching the rapid movements. He was flanked on one side by Tankawun and the other by her mother, Chemames. Tankawun was clapping and shouting in tandem with the beat, and would occasionally throw Uncas a winsome smile.

Chemames smiled indulgently at the two young people and patted Uncas's knee, her eyes glowing with contentment. It was clear that she thought the Mohican chief's son a fine match for her daughter.

Uncas bore it all with good humor and geniality because he knew in a way that this was his life. These were his people. Chingachgook had always held it a matter of highest priority that his sons have good manners and so Uncas would not disrespect Chemames by telling her that none of this was his idea, that he found Tankawun to be a little manipulative.

One of Tankawun's younger sisters suddenly sidled up to him and flashed him a toothy grin. She offered him a slab of broiled meat and Uncas accepted it with a word of gratitude, ruffling her hair.

A little while later Uncas looked up and saw Nathaniel motioning with his head furtively.

Uncas stood up and, bidding the family farewell for the time being, walked to his brother.

Nathaniel clapped him on the shoulder. The darkness cast their faces in shadows. The air was humid and cloying as they tried to speak to each other above the din.

"Everything all right?" asked Nathaniel in Mohican. "How's your new mother-in-law? I saw her pawing at you earlier."

Uncas said nothing as his brother poked fun at him, and instead looked around for his father and saw him sitting with the older men at the end of the longhouse.

Nathaniel leaned closer to his brother and said, "Hopocan came to me with interesting news earlier. It concerns you."

Uncas looked at him quizzically, and Nathaniel indicated that they should go outside.

Quickly stepping outside, Uncas felt his head clear. They walked outwards for a bit and crouched near the fires that lit the center of the camp. They could still hear the drumbeats and stamping of the feet vibrating the ground.

Nathaniel eyed him intently and spoke soberly in English.

"Well, as I was saying, between mocking the puny fish I had caught earlier today with you, and asking me why I was mending nets like a woman, he said something mighty interesting."

He paused and said a little resentfully, "_You _were mending nets."

Uncas made an impatient noise and Nathaniel quickly resumed.

"Right. So he tells me that Chemames - Is that her name?… Tankawun's mother, right? Well, apparently she visited Father earlier today and _conveyed _to him how pleased she would be with a union between their children."

"What?" Uncas said, biting back a groan. "Exactly what did she say, brother?"

Nathaniel back-tracked. "I reckon what she said was that it would be a good idea. That's all. Seems like little Tankawun has been running that pretty mouth of hers."

Uncas shook his head in disbelief. "I didn't say anything like that. In fact, I made sure she understood that marriage is not on my mind."

"I know. But you didn't outright say to her 'No, Tankawun, I won't marry you because… you smile too much.'"

Uncas gave a reluctant smile. "That's not it."

Encouraged by the smile, Nathaniel reciprocated and continued. "You did not reject her outright. Good manners and all. But maybe she thought you were being coy. And bear in mind that she's the eldest girl of a family with no men. I don't reckon she hears _no _very often."

Uncas picked a piece of bark form the ground and tossed it into the fire, feeling utterly stonewalled.

Nathaniel tried very, very hard not to roll his eyes.

"Why are you… what, brother? Just tell them no. I like Tankawun, but if you don't consent I don't see the problem. You have your free-will. You are not being forced. We are not the savages the whites claim we are. You know the whites marry their cousins, don't you?" Chuckling, he shook his head.

Uncas eyed him for a spell, his expression bland.

Nathaniel added to it. "Not even Hopocan thinks this is serious. His manner was more sly and amused than congratulatory. He obviously wants me to tell you this."

Nathaniel cocked his head to the side, eyeing his suddenly mute brother with wariness.

Why was Uncas hesitating? Was he thinking it would be a good idea. Did he forget Alice so quickly?

Nathaniel gaped at Uncas in mounting disbelief. "You're not seriously going to consent, are you? Uncas? Just because some spoiled little girl is playing tricks with the people around her-"

"You don't understand-" Uncas interjected.

"I don't- What? I don't understand? That is all you ever say. But I am still your brother and though my blood may be of the whites, I understand very well." Nathaniel said this extremely frustrated.

Uncas frowned at him. "You don't have to look so horrified. I have not consented. I only acknowledge that it is a good match."

Nathaniel felt appalled and blurted out in their own language, "You are serious, aren't you? You are going to subject yourself to probable unhappiness over the whims of some child who has had her eye on you since she was 12."

"What did Father have to say to it?" asked Uncas calmly, as Nathaniel was losing his temper and this was fast accelerating into an argument.

Nathaniel paused his rant and strove to recall. "Nothing… he said that he would speak to you about it."

Uncas felt gratified and relieved. Nathaniel continued. "The only thing I want you to do, Uncas, is think long and hard over this. I only want to see you happy. As a personal favor to me, your _brother_, give it a few months and then decide."

Nathaniel's thoughts shifted suddenly.

"You do know that it is the Delaware custom for the men to join the woman's tribe? Think about it. You in a crowded wigwam with around 6 women for the first few months of marriage, until you have your separate wigwam."

Nathaniel was so disgusted at the thought that he fought a shudder and could not even continue.

At that precise moment both young men swiveled their heads then stood as they heard footsteps.

It was Chingachgook, and he looked very displeased.

His sharp eyes bore holes through both his sons before he spoke tersely in Mohican, 'What is the meaning of this, leaving during the middle of the feast? Both of you will return immediately. Whatever you are being so secretive about can wait.'

Nathaniel tried to placate their father, saying quietly "We were about to return, Father. We needed to step outside to discuss something very important. Uncas-"

Chingachgook cut his eyes and glared at his older son. "I said to return immediately, I did not say for you to give me you opinion about anything."

He turned his back on them and the young men followed dutifully.

Suddenly Chingachgook stopped and faced Uncas, a calculating look in dark eyes. He held Uncas's gaze for several frozen seconds before saying in a low voice,

"After the feast is over, Nathaniel will return to our hut to sleep. Uncas, you will wait for me outside. There is a conversation that is pending between us."

Uncas felt a jolt of doubt shoot through him like lightning.

"Of course, Father. What is it you wish to speak about?" asked Uncas with great respect.

Chingachgook's stony gaze did not waver, but the corner of his eyes tightened imperceptibly with what Uncas perceived as scorn.

A hush fell upon the three of them. Nathaniel had an inkling of what was to come and felt a weight settle in his stomach as his eyes flicked from father to son, mesmerized.

"I think you know what we must discuss. We are going to clarify whatever has transpired between you and that pale-faced Yengeese girl."

* * *

Uncas sat through the rest of the festivity in silence.

He did not want to return to the women and sat beside his brother and their male acquaintances for the rest of the night.

One of them had passed around a flask of whiskey and Nathaniel lifted it to his mouth, taking a long swig.

Passing it to Uncas he gestured to him to drink. He almost declined then thought perhaps it would penetrate the numbing shock he felt at his father's words.

Uncas drank, the fiery liquid burning a trail down his throat. He shook his head grimly, and Nathaniel glanced at him in commiseration and worry. Neither of them knew what to say.

As the night drew to a close, the people began to leave in small groups. Uncas and Nathaniel were among the last to leave, keeping their eyes on their father and Hopocan.

Hopocan seemed to have an impression of what was going on, although Nathaniel doubted very much that Chingachgook had alerted his friend of what the conversation would involve.

They watched as the older men walked outside to where they were.

Nathaniel lingered near his brother but his father gave him a deliberate, unsmiling look. It clearly read that his presence was not wanted at the moment.

Hopocan's eyes were surprisingly understanding as he clapped Nathaniel on the shoulder and said in Delaware, "Nathaniel, stay with my family tonight and your Father and brother can return when they have finished. Come." He said this needlessly as Nathaniel already trailed behind him.

Uncas watched them leave through dark, hooded eyes.

Turning to his father they both sat near the shooting sparks of the fire and considered each other. Chingachgook spoke first.

"How are your injuries, my son?"

"Very well, Father. I am fully healed," Uncas replied.

Chingachgook nodded gravely.

"That is good. I give thanks to the Great Spirit."

There was an explicit pause and Chingachgook's gaze did not waver from his son's.

During this time Uncas felt an array of emotions pass through him, fighting for control.

First and foremost on his mind, he was conscious that he had disappointed his father to some degree. It was obvious now that his father had been wise to the situation with Alice the entire time. Uncas had obviously insulted his father's intelligence by assuming the older man would be none the wiser.

Uncas also realized now, more than ever, that he had made a serious error in judgment in carrying on anything with a white girl. Especially one such as Alice Munro who had expressed herself to be thoroughly disgusted with her actions, and him.

He realized now that his father had been right the entire time, that the whites truly were a breed apart, that they hid their desires and emotions behind intricate social customs, that even the females had been taught since an early age to focus on appearance instead of truth.

He would endeavor to listen to his father from now on, whose perception had always been acute and reliable.

"Father," said Uncas slowly in Mohican before Chingachgook could rouse himself from the stupor they had both been in momentarily. "You have always taught me to live with honor. You have never kept any secret from my brother or me. You have always spoken plainly and honestly."

Chingachgook nodded shortly in acknowledgment of this certitude. His words to his sons had never been ambiguous or reticent. His eyes remained locked onto his youngest son's.

"Forgive me, Father…" said Uncas in a low voice. "I have not honored the path you have taught me to walk. I have not been honest with you, as you have always been with me."

"Did you share anything with her?" asked Chingachgook, a touch gentler but his gaze still intense.

Uncas considered this question. He thought he had, however…

"Briefly. Not anymore," replied Uncas. "I knew the truth from the beginning. It passed."

Chingachgook leaned back and continued to study his son with interest, looking for any sign of dissemblance; he knew there would be none. He spoke at last.

"Uncas, my son. You have lived your life with honor. This has brought me comfort in my old age. I do not speak to you now as an elder to an unruly boy. Do not think that. Uncas. I speak as a father to his son."

Uncas listened intently and silently, scarcely moving. Chingachgook continued.

"I know your words to be the truth, my youngest son. I am glad. Therefore we will say no more of it."

Chingachgook stood, followed a moment later by Uncas.

Together they walked towards the wigwam, murmuring words of the feast and the hunt which would take place the next day.

Uncas expressed to his father his willingness to join the hunt and his father hesitated, explaining he would rather Uncas join the fishing trip that was to be held at night by torchlight.

A thought struck Uncas. "Father," he said wearily as they approached Hopocan's wigwam. "I have understood that Chemames has visited you. I wish to know if…" His voice trailed off.

Surprisingly, Chingachgook gave a low chuckle, looking at his son with an almost fond glint in his eyes.

"She has given her thoughts on this matter quite freely, but I have yet to understand your own. We will discuss it later."

Outside the wigwam, Nathaniel sat conversing with Hopocan instead of inside as Chingachgook had commanded.

As his family approached Nathaniel rose guiltily.

Hopocan explained that he had asked Nathaniel to accompany him outside as he could not sleep, directing the blame to himself.

Chingachgook was not angry at his son's disobedience, however. In fact he looked a good deal more at ease, now that he had spoken with Uncas.

Nodding to his sons, they all entered the obscurity of the wigwam.

* * *

It was a hot mid-day morning as Alice and the other female inhabitants sat outside on the grass.

The days and nights were starting to become cooler as the summer waned.

Annabel was explaining to the sisters what the autumn would bring, as they lay sprawled on the grass, eating strawberries. James was gone as was typical of him.

"The days will become longer," explained Annabel, flicking a dark strand of hair from her eyes. "These curious insects will begin the most mournful wailing in the trees. It will signal the end of summer and the beginning of the autumn harvest."

Annabel had insisted they all rest and make merry that day in reward for all their hard work the past few weeks.

Alice and Cora had learned quite a bit on how to maintain a homestead. They had learned how to mend the fence circling the farm and pasture. How to check the crops, to cook, they could milk the baleful cow behind the cabin in the cow pasture.

Alice was beginning to learn how to dry and salt food for the winter. She knew what in the garden was ripe just by looking at it.

"Tell me what the autumn is like in America," Alice urged Annabel.

Beside her Cora popped a large strawberry into her mouth and smiled indulgently at her sister.

"Well…" Annabel paused to consider. "Imagine, if you will, muted but beautiful colors. Yellows and burned browns, oranges and brilliant reds. Soon the entire region will be aflame with these colors, and the falling leaves will dance as they slowly come to the ground."

Alice sighed, her eyes dreamy as she imagined this in her heart. A peaceful autumn day… Where would Uncas be during this time?

"Imagine, still," Annabel continued, "the sky itself changing color. Steel grey, and a shade of white that cannot possibly be described with words. It is beyond white. It makes me think of eternity."

Without knowing why, with no premonitory or warning, Alice gave a deep sob and clapped her hand to her mouth as, unbidden, tears leaked from her eyes.

Annabel and Cora immediately surrounded the young girl, whispering soothing words and stroking her arms and hair.

"What is it, Alice?" asked Cora gently. "A bad memory?"

Alice shook her head, mopping at her streaming eyes. "I don't know. Truly."

Annabel nodded in compassionate understanding. "I also experience that sensation at times. I hear a whippoorwill or behold a beautiful sunset in this valley… I weep but do not know why."

She gave Alice's thick arm an encouraging squeeze. "I think it means your heart is too full of emotions. You must correct this. Give free reign to your heart's desire."

Alice picked at the grass distractedly, wondering if anyone knew what was her heart's desire. To pass these beautiful seasons with _him, _the man with deep and gentle eyes. To be by his side and experience eternity…

Looking up, Alice asked her friend and hostess, "How did you come to marry James? And move to the colonies? How did you meet Nathaniel and his family?"

Annabel gave a warm smile, passing around more plump crimson strawberries.

"My father was a wealthy merchant in London," she began. "I was educated as a lady, to make an advantageous marriage after I was old enough to be introduced into society. My father was kind enough to me but ambitious. I was never much of a beauty but the gentlemen seemed to find me charming."

Annabel gave a modest smile and blushed prettily at the sister's loud conjecture that she _was _beautiful, lovely, charming, brilliant and graceful.

"Now, ladies," she brushed aside their words, pink-faced. "I did not engage you both in this discourse seeking cajolery or compliments. I am merely stating a fact."

She continued after a pause.

"In my adolescence there was a poor son of Scottish laborers who came to be in my father's service. This was James, of course. His father was killed in a ship-yard accident and his mother died of consumption the year he turned 14. My father found him quite bereft and gave him employment in our home, in the stables."

"Your father was most kind and generous," said Cora gently.

Annabel shrugged and replied, "He was merely another little ragged boy to Father, grateful for a roof over his head and a warm meal. When I met him we established a mutual exchange, he would give me riding lessons and I would teach him to read and do sums as he had not been able to attend school growing up, and both his parents had been illiterate."

Alice tried to picture James as a pauper but could not. It made her chest hurt to imagine someone who had grown so dear to her suffering so much in their early life.

Experiencing poverty, being orphaned early and living by his wits on the streets of London.

Annabel gave a small smile. "I fell in love. How could I not? This was a man who looked at the world in a completely different light than I did. He taught me to see the beauty around me. His sufferings were great but his heart greater."

She sighed softly, reminiscing. " Before my father could barter me off to a wealthy suitor, James and I ran away together on a ship bound for the America's."

"How romantic!" breathed Cora, her eyes misty.

Alice was deeply affected by the story. She struggled with the strange feeling grappling inside her, then decided to voice her questions.

"But Annabel, how did you know that you had made the right decision? Were you not worried about the future, about how you would live… your reputation?"

Annabel nodded at Alice's apologetic face, knowing she had not meant to offend.

"I asked myself all those questions. But in the end I asked myself if reputation would bring me happiness in life. Reputation is only the world's opinion, after all. I realized that so many people go through life alone and die without knowing what it is to love. To turn my back on this ray of light, this happiness, would be a great disservice to myself."

Alice was still tormented and watched a red lady bug flitter in the air around her before landing on the hem of her dress. Giving her hem a gentle shake the insect continued its gentle flight through the summer air.

"You are very brave," murmured Alice, eyes downcast. Why did she feel so ashamed?

"No," corrected Annabel "I was very fortunate. To have found my companion for life."

Annabel paused and a slight frown marred her face momentarily. "I had hoped to bear my husband's children, but God has not granted me this gift as of yet. I think it will happen. I pray one day it will."

Cora was smiling happily.

"So you both ran away together and settled in this valley. I gather this is how you met Nathaniel and Uncas?"

Annabel nodded. "Precisely, Cora. A number of years ago now that we met in this same valley and traded with them. We count them as friends. They are honest people. Also their father, and they have helped us many times over throughout the last few years. That is why my husband and I did not even question when they brought you girls to us."

"What do you think about Nathaniel and… his brother?" asked Alice tacitly.

"Well, both of those boys are quite dear to us, as you can imagine," replied Annabel. "Nathaniel - Oh, he makes me laugh! He has the same wicked humor as James."

Cora nodded, her eyes sparkling.

"Uncas has always been a quiet enough lad with his serious eyes, but even the white girls find him handsome." Annabel lowered her voice secretively as she and Cora erupted in laughter.

"Why is that amusing?" grumbled Alice. "He is handsome…"

Then flushed when the other females stared at her. "I meant to say…" Her tongue felt suddenly leaden.

"It is simply the idea that is amusing," clarified Annabel. "Uncas does not show the slightest interest in white women. What's more he will most likely marry soon and to an Indian woman. It is his father's dearest wish."

Alice felt her lower lip begin to tremble and bit down on it hard, willing the sadness and pain away.

It was later in the afternoon that Nathaniel found Alice like this, sitting primly on the ground with her hands folded, her eyes very far away.

" 'Afternoon, Miss Alice." He nodded to the girl, then tilted his head curiously when she did not answer. He waited a few more seconds.

"Alice," he said loudly and was chagrined when she jumped in fright. "Sorry, Miss Alice."

"Just Alice."

"Beg your pardon?" asked Nathaniel, confused.

Alice continued to stare at the horizon. "Just Alice. Not Miss Alice or Miss Munro."

"Alright… 'Just Alice' it is, I reckon," Nathaniel said jokingly.

He watched in perplexed dismay as her lips twisted in misery and her eyes fell slowly to the ground. _Damn, if this girl aint actin' strange…_

Alice stood up, dusting herself off. "Have you eaten?" she asked.

Nathaniel nodded, then offered his arm to the blonde woman. She took it in silence and they wandered down the sloping hill to the cabin.

"How is everything, then?" asked Nathaniel conversationally as they passed a patch of daffodils. Alice murmured that everyone was well.

"I am anxious to see James," said Nathaniel. "In a few weeks I am headin' downriver to sell furs to Canadian traders. I reckon James would -"

'Take me with you to the Lenape camp," Alice interrupted him.

Nathaniel came to a halt and almost dropped her arm in shock. "_What?_"

Alice's gaze did not falter on his. "I said, Nathaniel, take me with you to the camp you reside in now."

Nathaniel shook his head slowly, unnerved. "Not possible, Miss. I mean, Alice."

"Why ever not? Because I am English?"

"Well… yes."

Alice looked irritated. "You are as European as I am, at least by birth. And you had told me that the Delaware are nothing like the Huron."

"That is true - they are nothing like those two-hearted vermin. But you cannot just… I don't know… walk into their camp."

Alice shook her head, a mulish expression on her face.

"But the Lenape trade with the English, do they not? They have never fought against the British outright and many of them live with Moravian missionaries. They will not harm me, to be sure. Especially with you by my side."

Nathaniel felt a flash of intuition and knew she had rehearsed this entire conversation in her mind beforehand. He was running out of arguments. And he _hated _losing an argument.

"Why do you want to go to the Lenape camp?" he asked bluntly.

Alice looked uncomfortable. "I just do…" She sighed. "No, that's not… You know why, Nathaniel."

Nathaniel sighed, running his hand through his dark hair. He nodded.

"It is only that… now's not a good time," he said evasively.

Alice's eyes widened. "Why not? Has anything happened? Is it Uncas? Is he hurt? Is he ill?"

Nathaniel raised a hand to put an end to her nervous chatter. "He is fine. Cora will not allow you to come, to begin with."

Nathaniel realized, belatedly, that he had said the wrong thing.

Alice drew herself up stiffly, her azure eyes icy.

"I beg your pardon, sir. But I do not require my sister's divine dispensation on this. I am an independent woman with my own free-will. You told me so yourself weeks ago. If you insist on this behavior, on this poor excuse not to take me, why- I will go myself!"

Nathaniel shook his head with a sigh, gazing towards the heavens. He sought a way out of this but could not think of one, and at this point the did not wish to test Alice's resolve on whether she would be foolish enough to enter the Indian camp alone.

"Alright," he groused. "I will take you for an hour or so but we will be back here tonight- No exceptions! And first you must tell your sister and Mrs. Stewart. _And… _you must not expect too much."

He said this with great seriousness, and hoped she caught the meaning behind his last words.

Alice felt as if there was an exultant little bird soaring in her chest. She was so breathless with excitement. _I will see him today!_ She scarcely heard what Nathaniel had said afterwards.

Laughing she grabbed Nathaniel's hand and hauled him towards the cabin.

Her bubbling laughter was infectious and he found himself smiling broadly as they neared the tranquil-looking home.

Nathaniel knew he was risking the ire of many people. The camp inhabitants and his father, for one. Not to mention Uncas.

He also hoped that Tankawun was occupied with something when he arrived with Alice, instead of being engrossed in her favorite pastime - hanging onto Uncas's every word.

But this was something he wanted to do, and Nathaniel felt it in his gut. Glancing at Alice's pretty, beaming face, he felt an uncomfortable jolt in the back of his mind, but pushed it aside.

* * *

A/N: Next up, Lenape camp.

Please thank Departed who has had long, in-depth discussions with me about this story. Her in-put is priceless.

Please R&R, thank you all for your support.


	10. Chapter 10

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_Lost_

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_Chapter10_

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* * *

_

_**"Some say the world will end in fire,**_

_**Some say ice**_

_**From what I have tasted of desire**_

_**I hold with those who favor fire."**_

_**-Robert Frost**_

_

* * *

_

Cora's head jerked up in fear as the heavy wooden door flew open with a resounding crash that echoed across the cabin. Annabel gave a yelp of alarm and rose to her feet. When she saw it was merely Nathaniel and Alice, she sat down at the table, clutching her heart.

Nathaniel gave Alice a severe grimace for having frightened the women but Alice did not notice. That, or she did not care too much.

Cora regarded her sister with bafflement, noting the smile that curved her pink lips, as well as her flushed cheeks.

Alice in turn ran to see the murky, broken looking glass that Annabel kept stored above the hearth and began to examine her features and her smooth hair.

Apparently she was disenchanted with the reflection as she pinched her cheeks, muttering that she was too pale.

"Are you… going somewhere?" asked Cora apprehensively, her dark eyes shooting between her sister and the tall American man.

"Yes," stated Alice distractedly.

"Where?" Cora pressed her sister.

"To the camp. The Lenape camp," she replied composedly, setting the shard of mirror back in place.

Cora dropped the hem of the dress she had been darning, shocked. "What- _Where?_" she demanded, disbelieving.

Alice looked at her sister impatiently, smoothing her apricot-colored dress for any imagined wrinkles.

"Nathaniel is taking me to the Delaware camp for a little while today. I shall be back shortly."

Cora was appalled and fixed her glare upon Nathaniel. "Was this your notion, Nathaniel Poe? Because if it was-"

"No, no…" said Alice soothingly. "I can assure you, sister, the idea was entirely mine."

Cora looked from Nathaniel who shrugged helplessly, to Annabel who was studying Alice in a curious manner, almost as if her sister were a particularly hard passage to read in a book. Finally to Alice who was standing restlessly, shifting from one foot to the other.

"But for heavens sake, Alice, why?" was Cora's final query.

Alice seemed at a loss as to what to say and twisted her fingers silently. This image tugged at her and Cora sorted through her memories, trying to recall through the distant haze. Recall when her sister use to do this. And Cora eventually did recall - it was whenever her sister was hiding something.

In the past, she would wind her fingers as she was questioned over silly things. _Who broke Grandmother's urn? Did you sleep early as I bid you to? _

Narrowing her eyes, Cora contemplated her sister long and hard. Then her flinty eyes turned to Nathaniel, who still stood at the entrance. She decided she would not question Alice, then, as she would remain stubbornly silent. Cora knew this.

But still… she felt betrayed. Alice had never withheld anything from her. Ever.

"I want you to please take care of Alice," said Cora in a cool voice to Nathaniel. "If anything were to befall my sister, Nathaniel, I will make sure to hold you accountable."

* * *

Nathaniel looked bad-tempered as he and Alice trudged past the thigh-high grass away from the Stewart farm, heading towards the Lenape village a mile away.

Nathaniel shook his head as if there were a gnat buzzing in his ear, a scowl settled on his tanned face.

He was already regretting this entire afternoon and knew a debacle could possibly take place at the camp; if the inhabitants were not in the mood to be very accommodating to the English girl. What could have possibly possessed him?…

His thoughts ran a marathon ahead of him.

Uncas would be overwhelmed, no doubt about it, and that emotion would lead to anger. Understandably so. He cringed, already imagining the sneer on Hopocan's face. Tankwawun… _well, who cares about her?… _but his father, on the other hand….

Cora had looked so upset with him. But he had promised to guard her troublesome little sister and he would. With his life.

Wheeling around, he spotted Alice a few steps behind him, panting as she tried to match his long-legged strides. Despite everything she looked lively and upbeat. She painted such a comely picture, her long golden hair whipping around her elfish face in abandon; her skin flushed with excitement and something else.

Nathaniel took a deep soothing breath and felt himself calming. Even though he knew he had let himself be talked into this by an 18 year old girl, he decided to make the best of it.

Alice latched onto Nathaniel's proffered arm gladly as they ventured deeper into the woods.

"Alice, do you see that bird?" Nathaniel had glanced at the creature as it flew past them, beating it's tiny wings madly.

"The sparrow?"

"We call it a _tschechtschis_."

Alice tried to sound it out but could not. Her English tongue butchered the word that sounded so pretty when Nathaniel said it.

They continued in this casual manner for a while longer, repeating Mohican numbers and words to each other and Nathaniel tested her.

"_Nat_… No, that does not sound right. _Nasha_…. _Nahnioge_s.." Alice said self consciously, struggling with the pronunciation.

Nathaniel nodded approvingly. "Good. Three horses. It aint entirely correct but it will do, Miss."

"I am afraid I cannot conjugate." Alice apologized and Nathaniel shrugged, smiling.

"How would I refer to Cora? How do you say my sister?"

"_Nkeck_. If I were speaking to you or your sister, I would say _keck _- your sister," Nathaniel instructed.

"Alice," said Nathaniel during a lull in the conversation. "Stay close by me when we enter the camp. Do not act strange or point or gesture. Act as if you know where you are and what you are doing."

Alice felt a start of nervousness suddenly but she acquiesced. Nathaniel gave her a side-long look.

"My brother will be startled to see you… he may even look displeased. But I really would rather you talk to him, preferably somewhere out of the way."

Alice had not expected this, that Uncas would not wish to see her and this threw her into complete befuddlement. _Was I mistaken? Surely not… _

"Why are you telling me these things, Nathaniel?" she asked, disconcerted.

His eyes held hers in a gentle yet at the same time unyielding gaze.

"Because I am on your side. Why else?" he replied simply, then urged them a little faster, explaining dusk would soon intercept them and he would rather they be at the camp.

More minutes passed and Alice noticed imperceptible changes to the air that she would not have been cognizant of two months before. The faint smell of wood smoke, and the air had a subtle tang to it…

"We are approaching…" she murmured, more to herself, and thus missed the favorable look Nathaniel threw her way. He was impressed.

As they entered the threshold of the Lenape camp, Alice finally realized what Nathaniel had meant. The inhabitants looked completely astonished as they gazed upon her. They dropped what they were doing and stared.

Many children of various ages shouted excitedly and gesticulated towards her. Men and women watched her, frozen; some in curiosity, many in downright suspicion.

Despite her struggling to appear calm and collected per Nathaniel's overture earlier, Alice felt heat travel up her neck and even into her scalp.

"Apparently they do not see many Europeans?" she whispered.

"Of course they do, Alice. But none that would just come into their camp so freely," Nathaniel replied.

He nudged her forward and fully into the camp.

* * *

Away from the huts there was a spacious clearing used for games, sports, and storytelling by the Lenape people. Large elm trees shaded the enclosure, and it was ideal for physical activity.

It was here that a group of able-bodied young men were playing _Pahsaheman, _and a round deer skin stretched taught and filled with grass and chunks of hide was the focus.

The afternoon sun was still hot. Uncas, clad only in breech-clout and leggings, kicked the ball forcefully towards his young teammate.

The boy caught it with his foot and ran, hare-footed, to the opposite side of the field to kick the ball past the opposing team and into a hastily constructed net held aloft by wood beams.

A small number of women and girls cheered their husband's and brothers on as the ball was passed back and forth, the men tackling each other and laughing good naturedly.

Women could play as well and, in fact, several had joined the game, although the same rules did not apply to both genders. While the men could only kick it, the women could throw the ball as they pleased. The men were also forbidden from tackling the females but the women could, and did.

Uncas watched, doubling over with laughter as a very large, sullen looking girl ripped his friend's shirt off and threw him to the dusty ground.

Tankawun was on the opposing team to Uncas and she was surprisingly expeditious and agile, nimbly jumping over his fallen comrade with the ball in hand.

"Uncas," she called as she barreled towards the goal. She gave him a dimpled grin. "I will show you no mercy!"

They continued the game for a while longer until Uncas began to perspire from exhaustion and heat. Standing to the side, he mopped his dripping brow and neck with his calico shirt and tossed it over his shoulder.

"Wagion!" he called in Delaware to his childhood friend that had been knocked down.

Wagion approached Uncas, grumbling about the bulky female almost crushing him with her weight. Uncas laughed again at his friend's expression; he was in a good mood.

"She obviously wants me," said Wagion merrily, throwing on his now torn blue shirt.

Uncas agreed that yes, the girl was obviously in love.

"Why else would she try to kill you by sitting on you?" Uncas added.

During the middle of this light-hearted exchange, a younger boy of about 10 summers ran excitedly to the conversing pair, his eyes huge.

"Uncas… Hopocan says… he says…" The boy was beside himself. Uncas quirked an eyebrow up and urged him to calm himself.

The boy, Chappegat, nodded fervently then took a deep breath and expelled it. He seemed to recollect himself.

"Hopocan says that you must come now. There is a something you must see," Chappegat said solemnly.

"What is it?" asked Uncas, confused.

Chappegat bit his lip and shifted. "I cannot tell you. Hopocan says to just bring you, Uncas."

Uncas had never liked surprises or the promise of one. It was not Lenape custom to speak this way, so it made him wonder what was underfoot.

Chappegat was obviously bursting to tell Uncas as the three began to walk towards the camp.

"Chappegat, tell me," Uncas said gently. Then, "I will act surprised, really."

This reasoning seemed to work for the child and he grinned broadly. His voice was quiet with amazement as he said, "Your brother, _Longe Carabine_, brought a stranger into our camp."

Uncas frowned. _Is it James? _He urged Chappegat to describe the man as they neared the center of the camp.

"It's a Yengeese girl!" Chappagat exploded the words out. "She has moon-colored hair. She looks like one of the spirits!"

Uncas screeched to a halt, his heart beat pounding in his head. He had to have heard wrong. Perhaps the boy was playing a joke.

Wagion looked a good deal more interested in the conversation now.

"Is she dressed funny like the Yengeese?" asked Wagion eagerly, craning his neck around.

Chappagat nodded enthusiastically. "Yes, lots and lots of skirts. Long hair the color of corn. They were talking to Hopocan when I left. He speaks some of the Yengeese tongue."

Uncas could not believe what his brother had done. He had brought _her, _Alice Munro, to the heart of the Delaware camp. The people were bound to react with suspicion and his father would be displeased. Very, very displeased.

He was rooted to the ground momentarily in shock until Wagion pushed him gently, his eyes inquiring.

After a few more steps they saw Nathaniel speaking calmly with Hopocan who, predictably, looked very sly. A half circle of people had gathered to the side and were watching the proceedings.

Slightly behind his brother, he spotted Alice.

Uncas felt his stomach lurch slightly as he studied her. She looked different. To begin with, she was affecting an air of confidence and aloofness but he noted the dull flush on her face. She wore a light colored dress and her hair fell long in a showering curtain of gold.

Her skin was slightly sun-kissed from being outdoors for most of the day, he supposed, but it only made her dainty features more pronounced. Her eyes were still impossibly blue.

She was so incredibly lovely standing there, looking stubborn and embarrassed and proud, that for a long agonizing moment, words failed him. He watched as her eyes turned to his.

Uncas's face was impassive as he walked to his brother, trailed by Wagion and Chappagat.

Alice, meanwhile, was going through her own ordeal. Uncas was walking over to them quite casually and he was bare-chested, his dark, warm skin glinting from exertion. She felt the pink flush tint her face and neck, and a warmth began to creep up her legs and pool in her lower belly.

Alice was overwhelmed as she felt her entire body tremble fiercely, and she prayed for composure… and in that wild moment Alice remembered her father explaining to her as an awkward adolescent that she would feel strange things when she was older and, though the fruit of temptation was sweet, she must not consume it.

Nathaniel greeted his brother warmly, but his smile slipped down a notch when Uncas did not smile back. Nathaniel queried something to Uncas and Uncas replied shortly.

Alice, hearing them conversing in Mohican, felt very flustered and embarrassed as she knew they were more than likely discussing her.

The brothers bantered back and forth for a while longer, their unintelligible words coming out in rapid bursts. The older man, Hopocan Nathaniel had said his name was, had a look of wry amusement on his face, his obsidian eyes roving back and forth between the young men.

Alice took a deep breath to stop herself from crying. It was plain to her that Uncas did not want to see her at all. That she had made a mistake in coming here. To her horror, she could feel the tears of humiliation and pain building slowly and desperately tried to hold them at bay. She told herself that it was for the best, that she could no longer harbor such feelings for a red man, that perhaps she should return to London and the polite society she knew so well.

Hopocan glanced at her during this interval and, though he did not stop smiling, she fancied she saw a momentary flash of pity in the pools of his black eyes.

He studied her saddened face and nodded to himself. He then turned and interrupted the scene of contention beside him, saying short and forceful words.

Hopocan faced the female and regarded her seriously.

"You are welcome here, verily," he said, the accented English words gruff and halting. He gestured around the camp and made motions with his weathered hands, pantomiming eating.

"Thank you," Alice replied sincerely. "I do not know how to say it in your language."

"_Wanishi,_" was his detached reply.

At this point she noticed an Indian man who was around Uncas's age smoothly step up to her from behind Hopocan.

"Wagion," he stated, thumping his chest. He thought hard momentarily and said, "Wagion…Thun…der…bird." The young man pointed to her and waited expectantly.

"Alice," she replied, giving Wagion what she hoped what was warm smile. _Thunderbird…_ she mused…. _how lovely. _

The two continued to grin at each other awkwardly for some long moments until Hopocan gave Wagion an annoyed once-over and barked something in their language to him, pointing a long finger in the direction opposite them.

Whatever was said caused the young man's cheeks to heat and some of the women around them giggled. Without saying another word to her, Wagion walked away. Apparently he had been summarily dismissed from the group's presence.

A shadow fell on the ground beside her as Alice watched the back of Wagion disappear.

Glancing up quickly, she met the gaze of Nathaniel. He smiled at her but looked tense.

"Let us find you some supper.." he murmured. "We will go with Hopocan, to his dwelling."

Not much later, the group sat in the dwelling that Nathaniel had previously called a wigwam. Alice was surprised the sturdy little hut could fit so many. They were sitting or squatting in this constricted circle and Alice cast her eyes around the circumference of the group.

Hopocan sat calmly, partaking of the roasted meat his wife had previously provided.

Uncas and Nathaniel sat by each other looking very ill at ease but, out of sheer manners, she suspected, eating the fare silently.

Alice picked at the slab of meat in the bowl with her fingertips, trying in vain to rip some pieces off with minimal touching. She had eaten like this in the forest on the journey to the settlement.

If truth be told, this was an affront to her English sensibilities, eating food with her bare hands, and she refused to stuff her face and gnaw at it as the men did. She set the bowl down to her side, trying to wipe her greasy fingers on her dress unobserved.

At that moment the fabric covering at the entrance of the wigwam drew open and a young girl walked in.

Smiling brightly at the group, she posed a question to Hopocan, apparently asking if she could join and he acquiesced with a nod. The girl sat beside her facing the men.

Alice eyed the girl with curiosity; she looked to be around her own age. She was very pretty, her black hair beautiful and hung past her waist in two braids. Her doe-skin garments hung loosely on her body, skirt only reaching her knees.

Alice felt uncomfortable to see a young lady so exposed, but smiled at the girl and her heart lightened when the Indian maiden smiled back, touching her chest and saying,

"Tankawun."

"I am Alice."

The mutual exchange was comfortable enough, but she wondered why none of the men offered to translate for her and this girl, Tankawun. They were both intensely curious about each other, from the speculative glances one gave the other.

The brothers did not say a thing and in fact ignored the situation taking place across from them.

Hopocan, who had finished his meal and set his bowl in front of them, watched the girls idly.

For the first time since entering the Lenape camp, Alice felt at ease. The girl named Tankawun seemed bubbly and outgoing and constantly smiled at Alice as she conversed with the men.

Suddenly, Tankawun reached up and plucked a lock of Alice's fair hair, twisting it gingerly in her fingers. Alice smiled hesitantly and the girl grinned, saying something in her language and letting the lock of hair drop.

Alice gave a small shrug, unable to decipher Tankawun's words.

The Lenape girl looked vaguely frustrated at the lack of communication between her and Alice and looked around to the men.

Hopocan gave Uncas a pointed look and muttered something.

Without looking up Uncas said in a low voice, "Tankawun admires your looks that resemble moon-beams. She says your hair is pretty."

Alice stared at Uncas for a bit in silence, willing him to look up and when he didn't, she felt the beginning stirrings of annoyance. He had no right to be rude or make her feel unwelcome.

Sitting up straighter, Alice turned to the girl and thought back to the word Hopocan had said earlier was thank you. _Wisha… or Washi… no… _

"_Wanishi_, Tankawun," Alice said, hoping she hadn't just said something incredibly stupid.

Tankawun, however, looked absolutely delighted and clapped her hands, beaming at her.

"_Wulelemil_!" said Tankawun enthusiastically, grinning at the men.

Alice smiled at the girl but looked inquiringly at Nathaniel, seeking the definition of this word. Nathaniel looked amused by the two girls.

"Tankawun says 'wonderful!'" was Nathaniel's reply in a mirthful tone.

Even Hopocan afforded her a small smile. "_Wishi. _Good," he said.

Only Uncas kept his face completely straight and phlegmatic, finishing up the last of his meat before pitching the bowl forward and sitting back, inattentive.

Nathaniel looked surreptitiously from Alice to Uncas and thought, disheartened, that things were not going well.

Uncas was being more than a _bit_ ungracious and Alice looked disgruntled and resentful, glaring outwards, her cobalt eyes imposing in the half-light of the wigwam; onto which the sun was casting its relinquishing rays.

Only Tankawun was behaving decently and the two girls were, quite bizarrely, talking to each other in their own languages without really understanding the other.

He had truly, fervently hoped that his brother and Alice would be able to find some common ground, but due to their mutual stubbornness this did not seem feasible.

* * *

Chingachgook sat in his wigwam, sharpening a bone and piece of antler to make an awl and a crude skewer. His gaze was intent and focused as he worked; across him sat Anicus, Hopocan's boy who was around 18 summers.

The boy was carving a flute made from the branch of a hickory tree, chatting away to Chingachgook. The elder man, for the most part, listened but not too attentively as he was consumed with his own work. Anicus talked too much, yet Chingachgook was nonetheless fond of him.

"Anicus, where is your father?" asked Chingachgook in Lenape once the young man had paused for breath. Hopocan had gone out for a bit much earlier and had failed to return, which struck the Mohican man as odd.

"I am not sure…" mused Anicus. "I will find him for you."

He stood up and pulled the flap of the wigwam up, stepping out into the dusky light.

For the minutes that he was gone, Chingachgook reflected on the last year as a whole. He was well into middle-age, he knew, and now his thoughts were more and more preoccupied with his two sons. They were good sons, he knew. The Master of Life had rewarded him thus. But it was almost a year now that he had started discussing with Uncas - the idea of him finding a wife.

Uncas knew he needed to find a woman sooner rather than later and begin a family. It was last summer that Uncas had agreed with his father and Chingachgook felt his aged mind ease with his son's compliance; as well as his show of wisdom.

Nathaniel was a different matter entirely. His white son had a restless spirit, like a wolf calling out to the moon. He had always been a wanderer and Chingachgook had already reached the point where he had begun to worry for his older child; worry that he would fritter away his youth instead of walking a natural path.

Chingachgook was gladdened that Nathaniel was now seeking to settle down and set down roots with the dark haired Yengeese girl. Nathaniel had told him that they had been discussing marriage, but the girl wanted to wait a few more moons.

Uncas was likewise contented for his brother and Chingachgook prayed that soon his young son would find a woman to make a life with, that he would find the same happiness as his brother.

Chingachgook's hands stilled on his work as he recalled the earlier conversation with Uncas about the golden haired girl. He reflected that, in fact, his son was being honest but, if truth be told, he did not think Uncas' feelings for the light haired girl were a passing infatuation. He knew this because Uncas did not do anything half-heartedly. His feelings did not vacillate.

Chingachgook would have found it more believable if Uncas had professed to his father undying love for that strange, frail girl, instead of telling him that the feelings had been fleeting and all had been concluded.

But then again, Chingachgook reflected, too many times young love lacked wisdom. _The flames of youthful passion are always the brightest. That is why they burn out the quickest, _his father had once told him in the distant days of his own long-ago youth.

Lifting his head up slowly at the sound of footsteps. Chingachgook awaited the return of Anicus.

The flap again was tossed aside and the young man entered with a most singular expression on his face. Chingachgook, skilled as he was at reading people, saw that Anicus was somewhere between amused and astonished.

"Is something amiss?" asked Chingachgook austerely.

Anicus looked slightly embarrassed, as if he was not sure how to gauge how the older man would react. There was a long pause as the boy seemed to search for words.

Chingachgook, never one to respect indolence in words, frowned.

"Speak," He ordered unsparingly.

Anicus reddened and said hesitatingly, "I found my father emerging from our dwelling with both your sons and… a girl."

Chingachgook was genuinely confused. "Girl?" he prodded.

The young man nodded and seemed to be choosing his words. "Yes… a Yengeese girl with gold hair."

It was a rarity, indeed, for someone to astound Chingachgook, and Anicus, feeling slightly smug, knew he had succeeded in shocking the fierce Mohican, even though his elder's expression did not betray him.

Without changing the inflection of his voice or even his countenance, Chingachgook bade the boy to continue.

"It seems your elder son brought her here. I am not sure of the reason. But the camp talks of nothing else. That is why Father did not come back. They all met in our wigwam."

Chingachgook uncoiled himself from his cross-legged position and stood so quickly and agilely that Anicus was startled.

"Show me," was Chingachgook's imperious command.

He followed, inexorable, after the fleet-footed youth as he hurried out of the wigwam.

Outside, the people who had previously crowded the wigwam were now standing together as the day drew to a close, the sky was still bright but streaked with orange and red.

Alice craned her head up and peered at the breath-taking sunset, knowing her time to depart was approaching. All in all her time at the camp had been… while not altogether enjoyable, she had passed the time tolerably.

Hopocan she had warmed to instantly and, even though she had the distinct impression that he was constantly mocking her, she sensed no malice behind it.

The girl, Tankawun, had been so sweet and pleasant to her. Alice truly enjoyed her company except…

Alice shifted uneasily.

She had noticed little things passing between the lovely girl and Uncas. Alice, inexperienced as she was with regards to men, still had been somewhat acquainted with the art of flirting in London. She had always been very demure, however. One male acquaintance back home had once told her that this was her most arresting charm - her innocence. Alice had never understood his meaning.

Alice, although she could not understand the language, recognized the coquetry in Tankawun's words and gestures. She was not very subtle with the tilt of her head whenever Uncas spoke, or the teasing arch to her voice. Only with Uncas.

Alice watched Tankawun and Uncas discreetly and could not help but feel Uncas was much more relaxed and open now; and it bothered her not knowing if this was due to Tankawun or if the shock of her sudden appearance in the camp had merely worn off.

Uncas responded just then to something Tankawun had asked and the girl laughed melodiously, touching her smooth palm to his arm and nodding.

Alice fought down the wave of… _something_… that was creeping up her throat. She felt her face color and knew it was not due to the ebbing heat.

Taking a deep breath and expelling it slowly, Alice pondered her feelings and the significance as the Indians continued conversing.

On the one hand, she would not allow herself to resent the girl for flirting with Uncas. This was natural. They were of the same race… and Alice had been inexcusably foolish, stupid, naïve and presumptuous in assuming Uncas might still harbor any shred of affection for her.

Tankawun, still touching Uncas' bare arm, turned and laughingly regarded Alice and for a moment, frozen in time, their eyes locked and they seemed to understand each other.

Alice hurriedly put a wan smile on her face, but not before the other girl caught her naked expression and slowly slid her hand down from Uncas, shooting them both quick looks. This time it was she who could not smile.

"My father approaches," muttered Nathaniel, who had stood beside her the entire time.

Alice felt herself cringe and then recoil in dismay, realizing somewhat in a daze that she had hardly given antecedence to the stern Mohican man almost the entire time she had been at the camp, and had taken his unaccounted presence completely for granted.

It had been hard for Alice to forget Chingachgook and his unsmiling, unsettling gaze. The way he had stared through her with his unfathomable black eyes, his commanding presence and the way his grown sons obeyed him without thought.

Standing there under the dying sun, Alice was again faced with his peremptory as Chingachgook drew silently up to them, his black eyes trained onto her.

Wearing an animal pelt of some type draped over him, the older man was unchanged from weeks previous. He calmly looked around at the entire group and no one spoke. Only Hopocan looked unconcerned.

Chingachgook broke the silence and shifted his gaze at Nathaniel, saying in English -

"Explain why you did this."

Alice again felt her face flame and looked downward. Tankawun looked around, confused, at the other people.

"Father, I brought her here because she asked me to," Nathaniel replied, looking uncomfortable. "That is the truth. The blame is mine."

Chingachgook did not appear angered or even bothered, but it did not matter. His gaze was still inhibited as he continued to study her.

"Why have you come?" he asked her suddenly, this time a frown appearing on his forehead, connecting his eyebrows severely.

Alice quailed and then rallied herself, searching desperately for a solid reason besides the truth. As in, _I am sorry, but I cannot stop thinking of your handsome son. _Shaking her head to herself at this absurdity, she settled on a half-truth, or an almost-truth, as it were.

"I came to see how you all were faring," was her final answer.

The frown still firmly in place, Chingachgook shook his head shortly as if disdaining her dubiousness. He reverted back to his native tongue and spoke to his sons, effectively ignoring Alice.

Alice felt so hurt and embarrassed that she wanted nothing more than to run from this wretched camp entirely and never return.

Uncas didn't even _care… _she thought, stricken. From the looks of it he had already quite forgotten her… even though, in her heart of hearts, Alice knew the blame lay at her feet for her cruel words and indecisiveness.

Unbeknownst to Alice, Uncas was observing her as his father tersely lectured his brother in Mohican over his actions, and he noted her sadness. Uncas was conflicted at this point but regardless, it was difficult watching her dejection.

He had already spoken to his father about Alice Munro and could not go back on his word. He knew he had not followed the correct path when he had spent all those days and nights thinking of her beautiful hair and eyes and forgetting his father's wisdom.

"I beg your pardon," Alice suddenly said in a low voice, eyes grounded. "I thank you all for…welcoming me but as it is quite late I must return to the Stewart's. I will go alone. Thank you."

She mumbled the last bit and before anyone could fully register what she had said, the girl turned on her heel and shot up the path leading back to cabin; it would be a very long walk and night was approaching.

Nathaniel swore under his breath and made to start after her, but Chingachgook ordered him to stop. Nathaniel took a deep breath before replying,

"Father, forgive me must I must go after her. I cannot allow a defenseless girl to run into the woods by herself. It's not safe."

"I agree," replied Chingachgook impatiently. His gaze turned to Uncas.

"Uncas. Go after her and see her safely home."

Uncas felt Tankawun stiffen imperceptibly beside him.

"Take your rifle with you, Uncas," Nathaniel said in a low voice.

Without waiting for his son's reply, Chingachgook muttered something to Hopocan and the two older men started towards Chingachgook's wigwam. Hopocan was smiling with satisfaction as he led the way.

* * *

Uncas quickened his pace once he got into the woodland, trying to shake the feeling he had of Tankawun's gaze burning into him as he went after Alice.

Alice was swifter than he had given her credit for; with those ridiculous skirts and impractical shoes. He ran soundlessly through the forest and soon he could hear her clumsily making her way through the trail… making as much noise as possible, apparently.

He saw her golden tresses first, predictably, then he watched as she struggled to run faster, clutching fistfuls of the skirts that obviously hindered her movements.

"Alice," he called out. She slowed but did not stop.

Losing patience he quickly gained on her and clamped a brown hand around her arm, forcing her to stop.

Alice, upon feeling his strong fingers curl around her forearm like a steel band fought the tingling feeling of awareness his touch brought and skidded to a halt. Wheeling around she quickly extricated her arm from his grasp, looking at him with disapproval.

She watched with some satisfaction as surprise registered on his face at her unexpected temper and he watched her warily, not saying anything.

"I do not require you to escort me, _sir,_" Alice said indignantly. She knew she was being childish in calling him sir; he hated to be referred to as such by her.

As the silence stretched on between them like a chasm, Alice felt herself fill with emotion.

She willed him to say anything to her at all, even curse her, not this silence that was breaking her heart.

He nodded his head instead to the trail before them and urged her silently on.

Alice turned and walked on, making sure to keep her pace in front of him. For several long minutes she walked, and all she could hear was her breathing and the drumming of her heart in her ears. She did not even know what she wanted, not truly. She felt so bewildered.

The sky was dark blue as they reached the end of the path. She could see the smoking chimney in the distance.

Alice took a deep breath of the balmy night air and thought… _home. _

"Alice," said Uncas, his voice deep and pleasing to her.

"Yes?"

"Why did you come to the camp?"

"To see you."

There was a long, palpable pause as Uncas considered these words. Both of them had paused and were looking away from each other.

Uncas sighed and turned his eyes to Alice, who looked unearthly with the dark blue light, making her face shine eerily.

Before he could stop himself, he put a callused hand to her cheek, stroking his thumb across her soft skin. He watched with interest and her eyes drifted shut and she slowly covered his hand with one of her own.

Uncas felt his mouth go as parched as kindle when she touched him, but he needed to ask.

"Why did you want to see me?" he inquired gently. She was silent for so long that Uncas thought she had not heard him properly, or she would not deign to answer.

"I miss you."

Uncas did not know what to say to that whispered confession. He could only sort through his feelings and the fact that he felt something akin to sudden relief. Because he had wanted to hear those words from her mouth for a very long while indeed.

"I should not have spoken to you thus, before," Alice continued. "It was wrong of me. I did not mean it."

He knew she was referring to the day he went after her in the woods, the day he had awakened from his fever brought on by his injuries.

Alice laced her fingers with his and kissed his palm gently. She looked up at him, craning her neck back, her large blue eyes locked onto his.

Uncas lost track of how long they stared at each other silently. He saw the yearning in her eyes that matched his own. Without giving him time to react, Alice craned her neck up and covered his mouth with her own.

Uncas was surprised and stunned for several moments until he felt a slight tremor from her.

He sensed the inexperience behind her actions and her caresses. As always, it was her innocence that undid him so thoroughly. He kissed her back and gathered her small frame into his arms; Alice wound her arms around his neck and slid her lips down his throat with a sigh.

At this, Uncas drew back and regarded her seriously, trying to shake loose the cobwebs of desire from his mind. This could not go on. Uncas knew this, and his voice was husky and reserved when he conveyed this.

Alice was panting and he could see the rosy hue blooming in her cheeks in the near darkness.

"What do you mean?" she whispered, dropping her arms from around him and shakily smoothing her hair.

"You know this. You said it yourself before. It is not meant to be."

"What…"

"An Indian and a white woman."

He saw her face slacken with shock as she stared up at him. Apparently she had not expected him to speak so directly. Alice's eyes were bewildered and she looked around her, blinking confusedly.

To his dismay, he saw tears build in her eyes as she gasped, trying to fight them down.

"Alice…" he said, reaching up to touch him, guilt consuming him.

"No," she choked out, the tears pouring out onto her cheeks. "Do not touch me."

Her teeming eyes narrowed and he knew with certainty that she had taken refuge in anger instead of grief. Such was the nature of human beings when they seek to preserve themselves.

"It did not take long for you to forget me," she whispered haltingly.

"You told me this same thing before, except your words were cruel," Uncas replied evenly. He was not angry, but he knew he spoke the truth.

"And yet, you have found a replacement rather quickly, have you not?" she fired back.

"What?"

"That girl. Tankawun. Do you deny it?"

Uncas fell silent. He had not expected her to be so astute. Although to be honest, astuteness was not necessary. All one needed were eyes to notice the way the Lenape girl fawned over him and was overly demonstrative.

Alice took his silence as assent and she began to sob, rushing past him. He reached out a hand to halt her and she side-stepped it.

"Leave me! I do not wish to see you again. You have found your future bride and I will not interfere," she said, then regarded him silently a moment longer.

"I curse the day I set foot in this land and met you."

With that she spun and ran down the path towards the cabin. Uncas did not follow, only watched to ascertain that she had safely entered. His mind wheeled in confusion and the commencement of regret.

He could not go back on what he had told his father.

After an interminable time, long after she had entered the safety of the cabin and slammed the door, Uncas turned and began his slow, solitary walk back to the camp.

* * *

Longest chapter yet, I hope you are enjoying this thus far. Please R&R.

_**Important A/N**_

My beta and I have been discussing something for quite some time and she suggested I get your input. Lemons in this story… yay or nay? I have nothing against lemons and enjoy a (well written) one, I just have never attempted one. Generally speaking they are not always conducive or even necessary to a story, but I find myself intrigued with the idea and have toyed with it in my mind. Still, I would like some insight, readers. Should I go there?


	11. Chapter 11

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_Lost_

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_ChapterEleven_

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Annabel closed the wooden door after Alice had entered, and knew that something had gone horribly wrong at the Indian camp; Alice had tear tracks down her cheeks and her eyes were red rimmed and glassy.

"Alice?" came the worried voice of her older sister. "Thank heavens you have returned!"

Alice said nothing, but Annabel could sense she was trying valiantly to compose herself. Her back was very straight, her blue eyes unblinking.

Cora drew up to her and scanned her younger sister's face, alarm growing.

"What happened, sister?" she asked urgently. "Alice, did they hurt you? Where was Nathaniel?"

To Annabel's surprise the blonde girl gave a very convincing laugh. "Nothing is the matter, Cora. I had a splendid time. Truly."

"But your eyes…"

"I am tired. I imagine I look quite ghastly. The smoke from their campfires made my eyes water. That is all."

Cora had calmed noticeably but remained uncertain.

"Alice," she began, following her sister and Annabel to the heavy table where they all sat.

"I do not wish for you to go back there. I was worried for you. It is not safe. I hold no antipathy towards the red men of this continent but really, sister, you were very impetuous."

Annabel poured some cider from a jug into a tumbler, silently, and handed it to Alice. Sitting back she studied the girl, and decided that something had indeed occurred at the camp. Something that had left Alice in anguish.

The entire afternoon that Alice was gone, Annabel had done nothing but contemplate the confounding situation involving Alice Munro. She felt that at this point she had a firm grasp of the younger woman's character and it was perplexing to see this slip of a girl, this apprehensive, careful young woman acting so bizarrely. Running off to an Indian camp! Only James had found it all very funny.

After mulling it over for some time, Annabel could safely say she had come to a solid understanding. Alice was young and dreamy, and it was said that love was akin to madness in the young….

_Uncas… _she had realized. Of course. Cora had told Annabel before how the Mohican warrior had taken on that entire group of blood-thirsty Indians to save the beautiful English girl. How he had lost his head completely and scaled up the mountainside, to his family's horror.

Annabel had noticed how Alice was easily distracted and constantly sad. How her face would brighten at the sight of Uncas' white brother, Nathaniel… how the first words out of her mouth were usually "_How are your father and brother? Are they both well?"_ Her word choice, now that she recalled, was so laughably obvious that Annabel felt stupid indeed for not making the connection sooner.

Annabel drank her cider in tiny sips, still staring at the girl as her sister continued to gently chide her.

"I am tired, Cora." Alice interrupted her sister's continuous harangue. "Where is James?"

Going along with this diversion tactic, Annabel replied that he was out back in the cow pasture for a bit. Alice nodded distractedly.

"Have we decided on a name, ladies?" asked Annabel, smiling. Cora laughed and even Alice gave a small grin.

The previous day James had approached the women with another one of his silly notions and demanded they choose a name for their superannuated milk cow.

"All self-respecting cows have a name!" he had declared, seemingly inspired.

Annabel had tried not to groan and replied to her husband that it was silly to name a beast that they would most likely slaughter anyway if the food ran low. The sisters, however, had immersed themselves into the spirit of it.

They had so far gone over frivolous names, stately names, names from literature, mythology, and history.

"See how that greedy cow oversteps it's allotted boundary? We shall name it King George II!" James had asserted.

"James Stewart!" cried Annabel angrily, and the sister's had looked momentarily stunned before breaking into nervous giggles.

"It is female, James," she had said, glowering.

A Scotsman, through and through.

Brought back to the present by the sound of the door opening, Annabel greeted her husband warmly.

"Ah! There's our intrepid lass!" boomed James upon spotting Alice. He sat down at the long, sturdy table with a groan, then smiled at Alice, face alight with curiosity.

"What, girl, no feathers or war paint?" he asked.

Alice flushed and shook her head.

Annabel gave her husband a look of silent warning and he caught it. Clapping his hands loudly he asked,

"So, have we chosen a name? Let us give our suggestions around the clock, please." He nodded to Cora, grinning.

"Molly."

James chortled and rolled his eyes. "Next."

"Bess," said Annabel. "Shortened variation of Elizabeth."

"_Obviously, _darling," drawled James and Annabel scowled.

"I agree, however. An _English_ queen's name for an _English _cow," he said, rubbing his hands with glee.

"Wait… I meant to say Artemis," corrected Annabel hastily, her loyalty to her homeland perking.

"No. Begging your pardon, wife, but Queen Elizabeth was your choice." He turned his green eyes to Alice.

"Alice. Our youngest and most adventurous companion."

"Queen Boadicea," Alice replied.

James gave his bark of laughter. "Queen Bola- What?" he asked, amazed.

"Boadicea, a great queen who led an uprising against Roman rule," Alice explained.

"Well, our sad little cow certainly led an uprising against our stocks of corn the last time she let herself lose. Mayhap she will move onto squirrels soon," he said teasingly. Alice giggled.

"Do not ridicule her, James," said Annabel, smiling in spite of her words. Cora was red-faced from laughing.

"As for myself… you lot seem hell bent on some boring name, with the exception of Alice," James said, motioning for his wife to pour him cider.

As she poured he continued. "No King George, then?"

"No!" was Annabel's stern reply.

"How about then, just the name _England_, or Britannia. I'm only making sport, my love," he said quickly at his wife's expression.

James mulled over the issue for some time.

"I think Agnes. Droll enough name for that thing. Always swatting her tail at me," was James' final answer.

They deliberated for some minutes before Alice emerged as the clear victor.

"Boadicea, it is!" shouted James in ringing tones, slamming his tumbler of cider onto the wooden table where it sloshed from the sides. Annabel looked exasperated.

Later that night, Cora sat up alone at the now abandoned table, idly polishing down the bowls, tankards and anything that was tableware. In truth it was hard to see even with the firelight and flickering candle, but Cora was in a restless mood. Everyone else had gone to bed for the night.

Alice, surprisingly enough, had been the first to retire. After scribbling in that little book she had pronounced a headache and went to lie down, silently curled up with her back to the others.

Cora sighed, wondering what was troubling her young sister. She scrubbed the tankard roughly a few more times with the moist rag and set it down, then picked up the iron pot.

_Why _was Alice acting so peculiar, Cora wondered.

Alice had always been so proper in every way, as was befitting of an English lady. Lately she would brood and languish, her only consolation was that ragged little roster that she sometimes dedicated hours to at night. She had said it was for recipes and….

Cora stopped her erratic hand movement and frowned.

_I take my quill up to clear my thoughts… _those were Alice's words. That meant Alice would record anything she was feeling, perhaps. And Cora wanted desperately to know what weighed so heavily on her little sister's mind….

Gazing around her, her eyes first made contact wit James lying by the fire, his head pillowed by his arm. His mouth was gaping slightly as he slept, snoring.

Cora observed him fondly for a moment then looked at the sleeping women. She could tell Alice had succumbed to exhaustion from her even, light breathing. Her face was still to the wall. Annabel was likewise slumbering.

Rising silently, Cora made her way to the crudely woven basket near the bed where Alice stored her undergarments, knitting needles and copybook.

Picking up the small volume, Cora returned to her place at the table and sat down with the book in her hands, pondering her next action. She felt slightly guilty but pushed this sentiment aside, as her worry for her sister exceeded any moral quandary.

Her movements were noiseless as she untied the twine that bound the book shut; she quickly began to peruse it, taking in the words.

…_today I churned butter… sweet biscuits were not as easy to make as I had imagined, I am afraid… helped James stock up on our woodpile… the cow is most disdainful, just as Annabel had told me…_

Cora smiled widely in adoration of her sister, finding her words charming and beguiling. She continued to read.

_Madam Nuisance is a nag… I wish Cora would marry Nathaniel… _Cora blushed at this… _eyes that are black and beautiful… his strong hands, when he embraced me…._

Cora froze in stupefaction, her eyes quickly darting left and right almost as if to make sure no one saw her reading this. She realized her mouth was hanging open in shock and quickly closed it.

Cora leaned back and pressed the back of her hand to her forehead as panic set in.

Did Alice have a lover? But this was impossible as her presence was always accounted for, even when she went out back to relieve herself in the shanty-looking, lopsided little outhouse, she was still within the periphery of the cabin.

Cora told herself that Alice would never surrender her virtue, that she would not compromise her reputation… but her behavior in the last few weeks had been so strange….

Forcefully opening the book as her breathing became strained, she pored over its contents with renewed vigor.

Page after page of these mysterious descriptions of a man with black eyes, of remembered caresses, of longing. But who? When did she meet him? Did she, Cora, know him? Where did this transpire? The fort? Albany?

Turning blindly to the last pages her sister had written, Cora read the beginning paragraph, was sure she had read something incorrectly, then read it again at a more leisurely pace. But no, there it was written in Alice's own neat handwriting, in coal black ink, his identity.

It was the last thing she ever expected. She might even have thought her sister harbored a burning passion for that ornery old cow, than….

Nathaniel's silent brother, Uncas. Somehow her sister and Uncas had clandestinely shared some sort of romantic relationship.

It was Uncas she had been pining for, Uncas she described… Uncas, whom her love-struck sister had lost her wits over and ran into that den of red men. Only to catch a glimpse of him!

Every line was testimony of Alice's despair. She described with fascination and detail the camp, the Indians she encountered, her annoyance as Uncas ignored her…

Cora read how a pretty Lenape girl had flirted outrageously with Uncas and how Alice felt invidious but defeated… _she is so much lovelier than I am… _Cora frowned at this… and how Chingachgook had scorned her presence… _he acts as if he were the governor of the camp. Who is he to disdain me and question me…. _then her heartache as Uncas rejected her.

Cora let the incriminating book fall onto the table from her limp grasp_, _her mind reeling with this new information.

For many minutes Cora stared hard at the table, wondering what to make of this unwelcome knowledge. She forced herself to be calm, collected, as she thought hard.

From the book, she was able to discern that Alice had not given herself to the man. That would have been too much for Cora, but she knew Alice carried quite a high amount of warmth and affection for Uncas.

But how could Alice not realize such a union could possibly, more than likely, be disastrous? They could not marry. No clergyman would ever give them a certificate of marriage. Who would ever recognize them as legally joined? Where would they live, away from the prejudices against Indians?

But according to the journal Uncas had been firm in his thought that a mixed union would be futile. Still, Cora reflected, it did not exempt the fact that her sister had been most wayward.

Cora started as Alice stirred, mumbling in her deep sleep.

Quickly shutting the book and re-tying the twine into a loose knot, Cora set it back into it's permanent residence in the basket. Then she blew the candle out and hurried to the bed.

Cora Munro did not sleep a wink that night.

* * *

The next morning Alice awoke with a splitting headache and a churning belly. She groggily sat up and looked around her, noting with some surprise that the cabin was empty and she had slept very late; the sun was already high in the sky.

The previous night, James had said he would be gone at first light to Robert Lancaster's. Knowing the cabin was devoid of the presence of the man, she ran in search of a clean dress and the chemise she kept neatly folded in her reedy basket.

Upon reaching the basket, Alice halted, perplexed. The copybook was typically stored at the very bottom of the clutter, beneath her knitting supplies and chemise and items of female necessity.

But at present the book was laying haphazardly on the very top.

Picking up the thin, slightly shabby book, Alice noticed something even more alarming. The twine was knotted differently. She knew this because she tied it in a very singular way.

One of her father's friends, while he was alive, had been a sea captain who had begun his career as a lowly midshipman. He had taught Alice as a young child to tie knots the way sailors did, a particular double knot. Out of habit and nostalgia, Alice continued to tie anything she could that way.

The twine hung loose in a hurried snarl.

Alice felt dismay at the thought that someone had read this personal object and knew her undisclosed thoughts. But who? James could read, but barely. Annabel and Cora were quite educated so they were obvious choices.

Annabel would have no reason to, Alice decided after some deliberation. Cora, on the other hand, had been pestering her and fretting over her consistently.

Tossing the copybook back onto basket, Alice walked outside where she encountered Annabel walking up to her with a bucket of river water. Alice offered to help but Annabel shook her head.

"May I ask where my sister is?" Alice asked.

Annabel set the cumbersome bucket down with a wince, rubbing her hands together.

"She is towards the trail, presently. Collecting kindling. Perhaps she is in need of assistance. She hardly slept and seems distracted." Annabel smiled but gave Alice a shrewd look.

Nodding and murmuring her thanks, Alice set off to find Cora.

It was a rarity, indeed, this sentiment that Alice was feeling towards Cora as she sought her sister amidst the winding trails of grass and mass canopy of trees. But she felt it, the beginnings of bewilderment and hurt. She was convinced Cora had pored over her book while she slept, and with what right?

She found her older sister deeper in the woods, crouching between two large poplar trees. Walking up to her, Alice made an effort to appear unruffled and prayed for soothing serenity.

"Good morning, Cora," said Alice softly and watched as Cora turned with a start and dropped the small branches she was holding.

"Alice!" said Cora with surprise. The sisters stared at each other until Cora looked down, shaken.

"Did you eat anything?" asked Cora without looking at her, gathering the kindling from the ground and pulling them towards her.

"No."

"I will make you cornmeal with milk…"

"I am not hungry," said Alice a little more sternly.

"Oh," was all Cora could think of saying.

Alice felt it with certainty, her sister collecting her thoughts and bracing herself to question her. Alice knew Cora all too well. She recognized the determination in her jaw and gaze.

Cora stood and gathered her handiwork against her chest.

"Alice," she said seriously. "There is something of the utmost urgency I must speak with you about."

"In regards to…?"

"In regards to…." Cora appeared to be losing her nerve. "In regards to your behavior these last few weeks. Your visit to that camp of red men, and something I discovered last night."

"Oh?" asked Alice with interest. "Allow me to pose a question first, sister. Was it truly necessary for you to look through my copybook while I slept?"

Cora looked stunned and mortified, her cheeks flamed. Her arms quivered and one of the branches fell to the grass. Alice bent and picked it up with a jerk of her arm.

"Alice, forgive me. I know full well it was wrong of me. But try to understand," Cora entreated to Alice, her eyes beseeching. "I knew something was ailing you but you refused to speak of it! Imagine yourself in my position. I felt I hardly knew you anymore."

Alice was unmoved by her plea. "You may have asked -"

"I did!"

"Cora, that book is private and you abused my confidence. I am quite vexed with you."

The conversation came to a standstill for a long moment and neither spoke. Suddenly Cora looked up at Alice and her wide brown eyes were so sorrowful. The emotion seemed to pulse from her. Alice felt immediately contrite.

"Sister," she said gently, "I did not mean to wound you…"

"You do not understand, Alice," said Cora in a bereaved tone. "We have no other relations and are alone in this land. You have always depended on me and I have always been responsible for you."

Alice did not reply to this. She dumbly kicked a little pebble across the grass and shifted. Cora continued.

"I am also saddened that you did not tell me of what occurred between you and Uncas. Alice, you are still quite young, barely out of girlhood. You should have told me when this all began."

"_You _did not say a thing to me about Nathaniel until after we left William Henry."

"That is a different matter entirely!" Cora was quick to contradict.

"In what way?"

"Well," said Cora carefully, "there are fundamental differences between you and Uncas that must be taken into consideration."

Cora's hidden meaning seemed to float in the air between them, tantalizingly - _He is not white. This could only bring you shame._

Alice stopped suddenly and looked at the trees with concentration. Expelling her breath, she asked her sister to sit by her side on the blighted trunk of a prone, long-dead tree. Cora complied.

The two girls sat side by side for almost an hour.

For a long time Cora listened in rapt silence as Alice spoke of what had transpired between her and Uncas, her shy glances towards him on the trek from the George Road, how they had felt drawn to each other, their interaction at the besieged fort…

Alice's eyes were wistful and sorrowful as she described how Uncas held her under the waterfall as they hid from the Huron who hunted them, how he braided her hair and had been so gentle with her. How he fought for her and was willing to die for her and how she had spurned him.

"Cora," Alice's voice was thick with emotion. "After he awakened from his fever, as we fled the Huron lands in the north, he sought me and I was so cruel. I told him I would never carry on anything with an Indian."

"Your words were indeed harsh, Alice," murmured Cora. "But you were over-wrought."

Alice shrugged and looked melancholy. "That does not justify my behavior. I was foolish in going to the Lenape camp but I wanted to see him, with all my heart."

Cora was at a loss for words at this but the tension had, for the most part, left her face.

Alice knew that it had to do with her sister's methodical mind. It was not knowing that had distressed Cora. Now that Alice had spoken so openly and honestly, Cora would have a clearer idea of what to do.

"What was your goal in seeing him? Do you truly see a future with Uncas?" Cora searched her sister's face anxiously.

"What does it matter, Cora? He has forgotten me and there is a girl… but I am sure you already know."

Cora flushed at her sister's allusion but locked her steadfast gaze onto her sister, regardless.

"Alice…" said Cora, her voice soft and even. "This may be for the best. It would be a harsh life, one you would be hard-pressed to become accustomed to. You cannot lawfully marry him. In the end, the youthful passion may fade. I say this because the time may come that you will resent him and this will make him unhappy. Or the same would be true in reverse."

Alice looked so anguished at her sister's words that she felt her throat seize.

"Uncas would not resent me nor I him!" she said in a high voice, but she sounded doubtful. "He was ready to lay down his life for me -"

"In a blind rush of infatuation. I am sorry Alice. I do not detract from what I know the two of you feel for one another, but he acted foolishly," Cora said somewhat sternly. "And sister, please answer my question. What can you aspire to with him?"

"I would be happy," Alice whispered, grasping her skirts tightly.

"For how long?" countered Cora. "How would you live? He is a hunter and trapper. Your life would be an unceasing struggle. You are far too young as well as beautiful for such a harsh existence."

"I never claimed to want any semblance of permanence with him," said Alice, her voice soft and forceless.

Cora looked at her sister in disbelief. "What? _What_ do you say to me? Alice, a woman's only security with a man lies in holy matrimony. Unless you have the desire to be his paramour or mistress."

"I will not be his mistress!"

"Then what will you be, girl?!"

Both women suddenly stopped their near-shouting when they heard a rustle and looked around, startled. The bushes behind them shuddered with the small, frantic movements of what was undoubtedly a small animal.

Alice felt the tension leave her body in a rush and glanced back at her sister who was still eyeing the shrubbery, almost without seeing it. Moments passed.

"Do you not think I have asked myself all of these question, Cora? You haven't the faintest notion how I have struggled with this in silence. I am not sure what it is that I had aspired with him, but it has run its course. Of that I am certain. It was not meant to be."

Alice finished and sat silent, staring ahead with such a blank expression in her blue eyes that Cora tilted her head, worried.

"Alice…" she said, touching a cool palm to her sister's wrist, searching her face. Alice smiled weakly.

"Is that truly the nature of what has occurred?" asked Cora hesitantly. Alice nodded.

"Yes. He has his own path now, and I cannot stand in the way when he chooses a bride. I think it will be Tankawun."

"Who?"

"The young Indian girl. She is not only pretty but quite sweet, Cora. She did so much to make me feel welcome and at ease. They are a good match."

Cora felt a spasm of pain then for her sister, who looked so dismal and lonely yet still spoke well of the girl who had ruined any possible chance of happiness with Uncas.

Perhaps she was wrong, thought Cora suddenly. Perhaps she was being selfish and narrow at disapproving of her sister and Uncas. Alice had been nothing but supportive of her relationship with Nathaniel. Cora felt so consumed with guilt and doubt at this thought that she looked away form her sister in shame.

But this was very much true - Alice always respected and supported her older sister in her decisions, and had always been loyal to her. Uncas was a good man. He had proven to care deeply for Alice, perhaps even loved her.

_Love…. _thought Cora, startled. This word had not been uttered by neither Alice or Uncas. But Cora was one of those who staunchly believed that while words may remain unspoken, the sentiments would remain there strongly.

Alice must have sensed her sister's train of thought because she rose quickly, almost fearfully and said, "Let us return. Annabel must think we were carried off by bears or worse… the French."

Standing up and shaking her skirts, Cora began to pick up the kindling besides the log with her sister and the girls walked silently back to the cabin.

* * *

The weeks passed and the pulsing, burning summer melded imperceptibly into autumn.

Just as Annabel had said, the colors changed from bright greens to gold and reds and browns. The leaves sighed in the trees and began to fall.

The weather changed; it went from warmth and sunlight to the foretelling of biting, brisk cold. It was still warm enough but in a few weeks that would change. The women began to wear heavier clothing and James spent a good deal more time at home chopping wood for the woodpile and harvesting the last fruits of his farming before the snow and ice came.

There was a barn behind the cabin that was piled high with hay. James constantly worked on the outbuilding to make sure drafts were minimal inside, to keep Boadicea warm when the frost came.

Alice and Cora worked hard to help around the farm as best they could. They harvested the corn and set it into the corn-bed on the top most part of the barn. They worked with Annabel to ensure they used the majority of the food that would not survive the winter.

As such, there was much apple pies as well as carrots and turnips and onion soups. Annabel constantly complained that she wished they had a cellar.

Nathaniel continued his constant visits to the Stewart farm and assisted James as best he could with the farm work. He also hunted and brought fresh meat to the grateful cabin dwellers. Alice thought he did this most of all for Cora, to ensure she was healthy and well fed.

After that disastrous venture to the Lenape camp, nothing more was said of Uncas between Alice and Nathaniel. They continued their usual pleasant exchanges and there was no rift between them. But Alice sensed the unspoken questions passing between them, the sidelong glances that eventually, thankfully, waned.

It was the middle of the tenth month when Alice cornered Nathaniel by a the river, wrapping her brown shawl around her tightly to ward off the slight chill as they spoke. She finally asked the tall man when he would deign to make an honest woman out of her sister.

"She has asked for us to wait," replied Nathaniel, a little red-faced. He shouldered his rifle even higher.

"Why?"

"Don't know."

"Yes, you do."

"No, I don't, girl."

"Then try to think of a reason, Nathaniel Poe."

Nathaniel rolled his eyes heavenward, something he did when he was amused but irritated. At the same time he scuffed his moccasins across the ground and sighed. Alice waited patiently.

"Well…" he began, his tone oscillating between doubtful and sanguine, "I think it has to do with you."

Alice was ready for this and shook her head with a sad sigh. "I was afraid you would say that."

"You knew? Did she tell you?"

"No, but I suspected." The wool shawl fluttered from around her neck and Alice paid it no mind as they began to walk around the length of the opaque waters.

"She feels much guilt at the thought of leaving me in any way. The only thing we have ever known is that we have each other," Alice explained.

"I know," replied Nathaniel gently, winding the shawl back around her neck and head and fastening it securely.

Alice smiled at him. "But I have a plan I have been thinking over in my mind with Annabel and I think it will ensure results. I need about a month."

At Nathaniel's insistence. Alice explained the outline of her proposition to the man and he began to grin.

"It may sound like lunacy to you, sir, but I can assure a positive outcome," said Alice, giggling in spite of herself. She gave Nathaniel a wistful look. "Then you will truly be my brother after you marry my only sister. You both deserve to be happy."

Nathaniel swallowed and looked uncomfortable as his thoughts meandered of their own accord back to Uncas. The camp was already making preparations to pack up and go to the winter grounds once the cold began.

Looking at Alice with affection mingled with compassion, he cogitated an uncharitable thought towards his brother, which was unlike him. But still - How could he not fight for this beautiful, kind girl who was so steadfast to those she loved? _He is a fool, _thought Nathaniel and he came close to saying this to her.

He decided then to keep to their mutual reticence concerning his brother, but he gave a heartfelt plea to the Master of Life in silence. That Alice Munro find the peace and felicity she deserved; either by his brother's side which was growing more unlikely everyday, or another man.

And, Nathaniel thought, he himself would make sure the man damn well deserved her.

* * *

At the end of the monthly interval, Alice slumped at the wooden table in exhaustion. It was mid-afternoon and she was alone as the others were busy about the farm, making sure the remains of the harvested food were properly preserved and stored for winter consumption. Nathaniel was not long in arriving and she had to be ready.

The morning after the conversation with Nathaniel, Alice had set out for the Newsom's home with James as her chaperone and sentinel. Annabel had insisted he accompany her - _"Who knows what fiendish things that old witch will unleash upon an impressionable young mind," _Mrs. Stewart had said, choleric.

But Alice had been determined. Gone were the days of wealth and ease she had experienced in London. She needed money and, distasteful as the idea was to her, Mrs. Newsom would be the key to this. She had only to convince the old shrew.

Thus as she finally entered the Newsom homestead and came face-to-face with the female, Alice was amazingly polite and meek, explaining to the hard-faced woman that she was an educated young lady, her manners were above reproach, but she needed funds to return to English soil. This of course was a blatant lie, but intuition (and common sense) told her the woman would be unmoved by the true, veritably more sentimental reason.

Alice proposed a medium of exchange, as it were, requesting employment in the woman's household for thirty days. She would work for them from early morning until late afternoon; she would bring her own provisions so that they would not have to feed her, while she would be willing to cook, clean, run errands, and help run the farm. She would leave at the end of the day so as not to disturb them.

Alice added that she, like Mrs. Newsom, was once wealthy and yearned for her old life. She needed only funds to secure passage on a ship. She could be paid at the month's end, if Mrs. Newsom were so inclined.

Mrs. Newsom, whose eyes had narrowed to slits during Alice's speech, now took on a look of greedy interest. Alice gave herself the self-indulgent thought that she had been very clever in her choice of words and mannerism.

She had effectively stroked the woman's ego with flattery, commenting on her family's greatness - _former _greatness, she had amended mentally - the other woman's upper class upbringing. Alice also knew Priscilla Newsome was extremely indolent if not downright lazy and worked her husband to the bone while she languished at home, enjoying the fruits of his labor.

Priscilla thought hard, not even asking her husband for his opinion. She gave Alice and James looks of disparagement every few minutes, no doubt turning over the proposition in her mind for any pitfalls or deception.

After deliberating several long minutes, she brusquely told the younger woman that she could begin tomorrow at the agreed upon sum, that she would be paid at the end of the thirty days, and added that she was feeling most magnanimous and furthermore she was a Christian woman.

James had tried not to laugh as he tipped his tri-corned hat and ushered Alice out quickly.

Alice stood up from the table with a wince. Today had been the last day of her working for the Newsoms, and she was very tired.

Madam Nuisance had worked Alice very hard. Alice was out at first light and back after the sun had fallen and the cold set in, and between that her hours were spent cooking, cleaning, scrubbing, washing… Mrs. Newsom was overly critical if Alice lagged due to exhaustion and silent when Alice did her work well, but Alice had found Mr. Newsom to be very kind when his wife was not prowling by them.

Alice put her hands into her pocketed skirts and curled her cold fingers around the shillings she had stored there; she felt the currency jingle jauntily and Alice was pleased. Now Nathaniel, along with the money he had from hunting and trapping, could afford to buy Cora a wedding band and entreat a minister to travel from town to marry them at the Stewart's.

Alice had done this all so Cora and Nathaniel could become husband and wife at a familiar location, surrounded by their friends and loved ones. Alice thought that this was something that she herself would want.

Alice heard a shout of welcome and rushed outdoors. In her excitement she forgot to put on her woolen shawl.

Nathaniel, Cora, and the Stewarts were all standing out conversing. Nathaniel and her sister were holding hands, but Alice noted how nervous Nathaniel was. He was obviously waiting for her and looked relieved upon her arrival.

Alice and Nathaniel made eye contact and held it in silence for several long seconds until Nathaniel cleared his throat gruffly. James stood flanked by his wife and Alice. They stood in a small row facing the couple. Cora looked enquiringly at them all, confused.

"Cora," he began. "I aint sure…. I mean, I've known you for months now and I can't remember ever being happier…"

James cleared his throat quietly behind his fist and muffled his laughter at these almost flowery words; Annabel elbowed him, glaring daggers. But Nathaniel seemed to unwind at this and chuckled. He tried again.

"What I am tryin' to say, Cora, is that having you as my wife will bring me a lot more happiness. I reckon the most happiness I will ever find. If you consent, I will have a minister brought down from town to do this properly. I will buy you a ring. I will build us a home wherever we wish. What do you think?" he finished a little lamely. "Will you be my wife as fast as I can bring that minister down?"

Cora looked stunned and could only gape for several moments, speechless. She looked around at all the attendants and Alice smiled warmly to her sister, encouraging her with her eyes to accept. Finally the dark haired woman spoke.

"Nathaniel… I am astonished."

Nathaniel cocked his head and repeated the word, looking fidgety.

"You have caught me completely by surprise… But I know how much everyone here respects you. Alice thinks highly of you and sings your praises. That in itself eases my mind. And so sir, I accept."

It was as if an explosion of cannon fire had erupted around them. Alice and Annabel shouted with glee and threw their arms around each other. James hurtled his favorite hat into the air and whooped his joy.

Cora and Nathaniel embraced, and Cora had tears in her eyes.

"Now we celebrate!" James shouted gaily, clapping his hand onto Nathaniel's broad back. The women embraced Cora and the lightheartedness was so prevalent that Alice wondered if it would be felt in Albany or Boston.

"We will bring out the brandy I've been saving," continued James as they all walked exultantly into the warmth of the cabin.

"Tonight we shall feast," added Annabel. "The wild turkey James caught earlier is almost done roasting."

Trooping indoors, Alice felt the happiest she could recall feeling in a long, long time.

* * *

The simple wedding was to be held a little more than a fortnight later. After handing over her hard earned wages to Nathaniel, he had set off with James to a more populated area to procure a ring and a minister who would consent to travel down the river if enough coin was passed through his palm.

Alice labored intensively over what would be Cora's wedding dress, alongside Cora and Annabel. It was a white and ivory dress, the finest one that Annabel owned. She had brought it over in her trunk from England. The women sowed tiny pearls onto the beautiful bodice, which was a pattern of graceful flowers dipping down into the skirts. It was a very fine material, and Alice accented the flowers by trimming them with gold and silver colored threads that likewise traveled across the sea. At the crowning touch, Annabel took apart an eggshell-white silk shawl and, despite Cora's protestation of the extravagance, added sheer delicately flounced sleeves that would hang down to Cora's wrists.

Cora burst into happy tears upon seeing the dress in completion, sobbing that she did not think she would be half so happy marrying a gentleman in England at Westminster Abbey, not when she had by her side her treasured sister and friend.

It was a brisk but sunny Sunday afternoon when Cora and Nathaniel married in front of the Stewart's cabin, surrounded by their friends.

Nathaniel looked very handsome and even borrowed trousers and a fitted vest from James for the occasion. But there was no doubt in anyone's mind that it was Cora who looked a vision of perfection.

She was radiantly lovely in her exquisite wedding gown, paired with Annabel's pearl earrings and tiny white flowers that trailed downward that Alice had insisted on pinning into her sister's upswept hair.

When the minister married them, the people around them were giddy with happiness. Alice and Annabel had tears in their eyes, and James grinned broadly; the Lancaster's and their brood of children were in attendance as well as Mr. Newsom whom Alice had specifically invited in remembrance of his kindliness and hospitality when Alice worked at his home. Mrs. Newsom did not attend. Perhaps her husband did not wish it and failed to bring it up in conversation.

Nathaniel's family were not present either and Alice fought a nagging question, wondering if he had even mentioned his upcoming nuptials. Was he perhaps waiting until after the fact? After all, they could not attend either way with so many colonials present.

As the newly married couple kissed, cheers rent the air and Alice felt her heart soar with joy. James snatched the fallen bouquet of wildflowers that Cora had dropped and waved it around, yelling. Annabel gave her usual long-suffering sigh, but even her husband's embarrassing behavior could not erase the smile from her face.

After an evening inside feasting, the crowd departed. The minister went home with Mr. Newsom until he could head back to town, and Alice and the Stewart's were to join the Lancaster's on their journey home. They wanted to give the newly married couple privacy.

James and Robert were quite drunk at this point and supported each other, laughing as they left.

"Enjoy your wedding night. I did," James slurred and Annabel gave a gasp as well as her usual exclamation- _"James Stewart!" _Robert snickered.

"Ay," James continued as they shepherded out, and Alice, holding one of the sleeping girls in her arms, tried awkwardly to push him upright with her free hand. "And do not come out unless something is on fire."

Tossing her blonde hair back with a laugh, Alice shook her head and stepped out.

"Alice!" she heard, and turned with the sleeping child, who curled into the crook of her neck as Nathaniel and Cora came to the door.

"Alice," said Nathaniel. "We owe all of this to you. Now I am your brother as you said earlier by the river." Alice smiled.

Cora looked at her with shining eyes. "It is true. I will never forget what you have done for us, sister. One day, you will find the same happiness."

Alice felt a spasm of pain at these words. She had her doubts she would. The only man that she ever truly wanted was gone. Nathaniel had quietly told her during the wedding feast that the camp had packed and moved west for the winter. The agony she had felt at hearing those words had been almost unbearable. Despite the lapsed time, despite the wedding preparations and toiling all day and the ache in her bones, Alice did not feel it leave… did not feel her love diminished.

Nathaniel sensed her bleakness and looked from Cora to Alice, but she merely hefted the child higher onto her shoulder and bade them good night and again offered congratulations.

The door closed and was bolted behind her as she hurried down to the others, fighting tears. Was he even now married to another? Alice resolved not to think of it anymore. She felt she needed to truly resign herself if she were to find peace.

* * *

_**A/N**_

Well… thank you all for sticking with me thus far and your support. I treasure loyalty in people above all else, even loyal reviewers whom I will never meet. I love you all!

I was feeling sentimental when I wrote the parts about Cora/Nat, note the blatant girlishness as I described her wedding dress. I wanted to give them a special but also not too extravagant wedding.

Also, don't think too harshly of Cora in this one, imagine if you were an older sister and were in her position. She only has her sister's well-being in mind. Still don't know how I will end this but am enjoying the ride. Please R&R, friends.


	12. Chapter 12

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_ChapterTwelve_

______________

Several weeks later, Alice sat by the familiar river near the little cabin she had long since called her home.

Alice snuggled deeper into the thick overcoat she wore against the freeze, rubbing her chafed, red hands together. But despite the penetrating frost Alice smiled faintly and sighed as she watched the frozen surface of the river.

The deep winter sunlight glinted off the ice, making it look like thousands of shards of glinting glass. Alice loved to sit still in the silent placidity of nature. She loved the wild, untamed beauty of the American colonies, and the bold, colorful sunsets. She loved the perfection of the horizon that appeared painted by some celestial hand, where the earth ended and the sky began were interblended perfectly.

It was now over a month since Cora had become the wife of Nathaniel and Alice sat there, completely stationary, as she thought back to the inevitable changes that had occurred.

The afternoon after their wedding, Cora and her new husband sat with Alice and the Stewarts around the fire. They had all deliberated at length over what they would do. Nathaniel had to return to his father's people. This obviously bothered him, leaving his young wife so soon after the wedding.

But Cora had bracingly reminded Nathaniel that this was a temporary necessity as they could not yet travel to find land to settle in, or build a cabin in this unforgiving climate. There was also no room at the Stewart's.

A few days later Nathaniel set off on the day long journey to the winter grounds, promising he would return once a week for a small amount of time, until the weather changed. Nathaniel kept good on his promise, and he was still a strong presence even if his visits were now abbreviated.

Alice had spoken with the Stewarts and had their full support when she explained to Cora and her husband that she wished to stay with Annabel and James when the Poe's set out on their own.

Nathaniel had looked nonplussed as he told Alice that their intention was to bring her with them and to have her live with them at their yet to be built cabin. Cora, just as Alice had foreseen, had been startled, then tearful as she begged her to reconsider, stating that she could not fathom living apart from her only sister.

But Alice was firm in her idea. The new couple needed time to grow together and Alice did not want to be in the way. She knew she would not be in the way negatively, she got on splendidly with Nathaniel; she just wanted them to live their own lives.

And, Alice thought pensively, she herself wanted to live with a hint of self-determination and reliance. The days of chaperones and tea time felt so long behind her.

It was several minutes of Nathaniel blustering his disapproval, and Cora's dolorous supplication- _"You do not have to do this!"_ she had repeated incessantly.

The Stewarts's had backed her unconditionally, unanimous as they voiced their thoughts that Alice would be fine here. Annabel stated she loved Alice dearly, and nothing would make her happier; James was uncharacteristically solemn as he assured the Poe's that Alice would be safe, that he himself would build her a comfortable trundle to sleep in once the weather was favorable again.

After tears and pleading, the matter was settled. Nathaniel and Cora would strike out on their own once winter abandoned the region in exchange for spring. They were not sure where they would head out, but they intended to have a homestead of their own.

Nathaniel was also making inquiries about where to find suitable land. He explained to the females that frontier land was readily available but they would be extremely isolated and it was very dangerous. Nathaniel looked momentarily pained and the sisters knew he thought of the Camerons.

"I reckon we could settle in the Ohio Valley," he had said slowly, scratching the back of his neck. "But that would mean headin' out west. That area is very peaceful."

Cora had wailed again that it was too far away from Alice, but the younger girl explained to her sister that it was only a journey of a few short weeks to an intrepid traveler. They could visit during the spring or summer and then the autumn perhaps.

Nathaniel had been quick to interject that it was only a thought. They still had months to plan it.

In about a week, Alice calculated, it would be Christmastide and then the New Year. It would be 1758. Then when spring blossomed in March she would be 19 years old.

Alice remembered the last Christmas with Cora and Duncan and their friends at the Munro's spacious London home. It had been a grand affair with music, dancing and merriment. The cooks and servants had labored tirelessly hanging wreaths and garlands and preparing a large feast for the fifty people that had been invited. Papa had had leave for the festivities and had invited his own men. The colonels and generals and lieutenants had arrived with their families, as well as several prominent judges and magistrates and Lords serving the King- _"yes-men"_, Cora had caustically termed them behind the beaded folds of her fan.

A large stone hearth had been constructed in the ample gardens as Alice had insisted on an old tradition from the British Isles - the burning of the Yule log.

The night had been memorable, Alice had danced the night away with her father and the officers.

But it was memorable now, more than ever to Alice, because not two days after, Papa and Duncan had been called across the Atlantic in service of the King. She was not to see her father's face again until she had arrived at the besieged fort, and then a few days later he was dead under the clear blue skies of the New World.

Alice rubbed her hands even harder and wondered where his soul was at this moment.

Was there an afterlife? Was it a paradise as the Bible stated? Alice always thought after she had left her homeland of Scotland that Heaven would be Iverness, the town she had lived in as a child. With its fields of golden grain and flowers and long, sloping green hills she had run barefoot through. The marshes and moorlands, and the warm, cloudless nights when Alice and Cora had lain under the stars with their old nursemaid as she told them legends of heroic deeds known only to the Scottish.

_Papa is there on the moors with Mama. _Alice thought this with so much certainty that her heart swelled with happiness. Not rainy, cloudy London where he had been so looked down on for being Scottish. His soul was not roaming these colonial lands that had violently claimed his life and left his daughters orphaned. He was in Scotland. Alice was sure of it.

Perhaps she was being as fanciful as a child in thinking this, but Alice believed with all her being that he had been reunited with his dark-haired, beautiful wife in their ancestral land that had brought them so much joy in the years they had been alive.

_Papa… _she sighed, glancing up at the vast expanse of the ever-constant sky.

* * *

Alice stood up on one of the wooden chairs, and attempted to tie sprigs of holly and bay over the hearth with some bits of stings. After some creative twisting, she managed to hang the greens down. It was a small gesture, but she wanted to commemorate Christmastide, no matter how minuscule her endeavors.

A mistletoe had also been hung over the door, and James had carved three wooden shoes earlier in the month for the women and he had been adding little sweets and ribbons for them.

It was nothing grand, Alice thought, but she was nonetheless happy as she surveyed her handiwork. The dinner would be a small affair - just the inhabitants and Nathaniel. But Alice had worked alongside the females in cooking savory ham and potatoes, mincemeat pies and had even spent a tad more than they should have on brandied peaches. Alice was greatly looking forward to that bit of extravagance; it was hard to come by as fruits were near impossible to preserve.

Alice was wearing her old cream colored dress that had once been Annabel's and had added blue ribbons that James had gifted in her wooden shoe. _"It matches your eyes to perfection, lass," _he had said fondly. Her hair was braided around her head and she had lastly pinned a lovely pearl brooch that Annabel had given her on a whim - Cora had been married in the matching pearl earrings.

Alice glanced fleetingly at her sister, who was setting the table, humming an old tune. Walking to the door she pulled it open and smiled at the sight of the snow flurries coming down. Thus far the winter had not been too hard on them. There were no snowstorms, but James had warned them that this could change.

Peering out, Alice followed with her eyes the gentle descent of the powdery crystals for some minutes until Cora gently reproved her that the cabin was becoming cold. Walking back inside, Alice quickly wrapped herself in her blanket as all the overcoats were in use.

"Sister," she called as she walked purposefully to the door again. "I will see if Annabel or James require my assistance."

Cora lifted her eyes to her sister and frowned slightly. "You will catch cold, Alice. Stay by the fire."

Alice gave a small smile and stepped outside. In _was _cold, she thought mildly, but not severely.

Glancing around she saw no sign of the Stewarts, but there were only so many places they could be. She headed for the barn, wrapping the blanket closer to her and leaving faint footprints on the dusting of snow.

The barn door opened with a creak. Stepping into the shadows she called a greeting.

James poked his head from above the beamed divider. "Hello, lass!" he called jovially. Alice grinned and approached, resting her hands on the wood as she observed James feeding Boadicea slop from a pail.

"What are you doing, James?" she asked.

"Feeding my dearest her Christmas dinner. Tonight she is treated with corn slop! She enjoys it, do you not, love?" James crooned.

Alice laughed at the sight. Despite his complaints, James loved the old cow. Alice could tell in his manner, how he said spoke amorous words to it, calling it "bonnie lass" and how he patted her rump affectionately.

Alice inquired where Annabel was.

"Here!" came the call as Annabel peered down from atop her wooden ladder. Alice had not seen her at the corn loft as she had been hidden by piles of hay. "I did not want to see my husband's spectacle with the creature." Alice laughed loudly again.

"My dear wife," James called in a saccharine voice. "Do not be jealously inclined towards our resident Queen. Remember she led a revolt against the Romans and our stalks of corn."

Annabel chuckled and the stacks of hay rustled as Alice assisted her climb down.

"May I assist either of you?" Alice asked, plucking bits of hay from her hair and blanket.

"No," Annabel sighed as she dusted her hands. "James is almost finished trifling with his true wife. I suggest we make sure the meal is ready as Nathaniel will soon be here. Do you need anything, my love?" she called to her husband. He indicated he did not, and so the women made their way outside.

Walking arm in arm, the women spoke lightly as they walked towards the cabin, fretting over the food and weather and exchanging gossip.

"James heard from Robert Lancaster that Gregory Newsom was seen sporting a blackened eye," Annabel said frowningly, "No doubt from the bone-picking harpy he resides with." Alice shook her head sadly.

"Meg also told me that Mr. Newsom spends a good deal of time at the Mason's farm," Alice added, recalling her conversation with Margaret Lancaster. "I think he is afraid to go home at times. Poor man."

"Aye," replied Annabel. "While I believe that a decent man should never strike a woman, I wonder how he does not take a horsewhip to her sometimes. I swear I would throttle her."

Alice smiled, but again thought with sympathy of the small, timid little man.

"I invited him over when I saw him wandering about yesterday." Alice said this almost as an afterthought. "I had forgotten. I do hope he shows up, but…alone," Alice finished delicately.

Opening the door of the cabin, the women sighed with bliss as the warmth embraced them and the smell of food tempted them. Upon entering they shook the snow loose from their hair.

"Is everything alright?" asked Annabel agreeably to Cora who was sweeping the hearth.

"Splendid," returned Cora, setting the broom down against the wall and peering at the mincemeat pies that sat on the tabletop, browned to near perfection.

"I declare I cannot wait for Nathaniel to arrive. He will be so very pleased!" Cora enthused.

Alice smiled happily and began setting the cutlery out when a creak rent the air. The women looked up as the cabin door swung open. James peered inside, roving his eyes around them all and tossing his dark blonde hair back with a grin.

"Look who I found skulking about!" he said raucously, hauling in an amused Nathaniel.

Cora gasped and ran to her husband, embracing him tightly. "Indeed I was," said Nathaniel as he turned to Alice, echoing the polished expression she constantly used. Alice blushed.

"Were you skulking, Nathaniel?" teased Cora as she led him by the hand to the hearth.

Her husband nodded cheerfully. "I am a lonely traveler, and I heard the most beautiful girl in the world lives here with her equally pretty younger sister."

Alice and Cora smiled, pleased. "You forgot one lady. She is even fairer," said James proudly, wrapping an arm around his wife's slender shoulders. Then he promptly spoiled it by adding, "She lives in the barn. But my little wife here is pleasing to look at as well."

"Whiskey," interjected Nathaniel hastily, though he shook with silent laughter. Nathaniel handed the bottle to the Stewarts and they appeared grateful; James was downright ecstatic.

They were sitting down and talking noisily when there came a soft, hesitant knock on the cabin door. The women looked at each other, puzzled, while the men immediately picked up their rifles that leaned against the far wall and went to open the door with rifles pointed.

Alice heard a faint voice. "Dear me, forgive me, gentlemen. I had thought I had been invited to supper. I shan't trouble you, sirs. I take my leave."

Alice heard Gregory Newsom's soft and tentative voice, as always sounding unsure but still highly educated. Standing, she ran briskly to the door and whispered to the young men to put down their arms.

"Mr. Newsom!" cried Alice merrily. "Of course you are invited. Forgive the men's alarming greeting. One cannot be too careful in these lands."

Mr. Newsom looked timidly around as he entered. "I concur. Forgive the lateness of my arrival. I had to take my wife to the Lancaster's."

The other men stood to the side and smirked at each other. Alice shook her head shortly at them and bade them be seated.

"I trust your wife is in good health? Is she well?" inquired Annabel after she had finished serving them all with Alice and everyone was partaking of the delicious food.

"She is, madam, thank you," Mr. Newsom replied politely, cutting into the ham and potatoes.

"I saw her by chance yesterday. I can safely assume is eating well," James drawled and Alice coughed loudly into her hand and looked down, fighting down the ebullient laugh. Peeking up, Alice saw the older man was not angry. In fact, he had a faint smile on him.

The duration of the dinner was very pleasant. Everyone was at their most relaxed and agreeable. Mr. Newsom was pleasant and commented on the lovely decorations and the sumptuousness of the food. He seemed to take no offense as James goaded him with constant allusions to his wife bulk and stringent temperament.

"I heard Mrs. Newsom was so angry at a peddler a few weeks back that she struck him with her open palm and the man became senseless. With her _palm_." James said this, closely watching the scholarly looking man.

"Quite true," Mr. Newsom said easily. "It took the poor man almost a half hour to come to. I have not seen him since."

Alice shook her head in wide-eyed wonder and took a dainty sip of cider.

After consuming the meat pies, Alice did not think anyone had any room left to eat anything else until Cora presented the table with the brandied peaches and whisky; there was an almost mad dash for the fruits and everyone apportioned it, even dividing the sweet syrup left from the peaches.

"God bless you all," Mr. Newsom sighed contentedly. "Peaches in the winter - what a delight."

After dinner was concluded they sat quietly and Mr. Newsom led them all in prayer. Although Nathaniel did not participate, he bowed his head respectfully.

Mr. Newsom soon departed, looking very content and spirited and promised to return within the next few days.

It was past midnight, Alice was certain of, and the women conversed among themselves while Nathaniel and James did the same. Alice watched the men through tired eyes and listened casually to their conversation of farming and trading.

Alice's eyelids began to droop and she bid them all goodnight, walking tiredly towards the bed. She let her hair down and lay quickly, tucking her feet under her.

Nathaniel quietly appeared in front of her. "You dropped this," he said smilingly, holding up the pearl brooch that had somehow come loose from her bodice. Alice curled her fingers around it gratefully and slipped her fisted hand under her chin, whispering her thanks.

Nathaniel turned to leave but Alice put a small hand to halt him.

"Nathaniel," she said imploringly, "how is Uncas?"

Nathaniel looked confounded, but after gazing at her pleading eyes he shrugged and answered.

"Well enough."

"Is he.. did he…" Alice could hardly frame the words, but she wanted to know if he had married. Nathaniel understood.

"No," he said gently.

Alice nodded and then shut her eyes tightly and turned to face the wall. She heard Nathaniel sigh, then brush a calloused hand across her forehead, smoothing her hair from her face.

"Sleep, Alice," Nathaniel mandated quietly, and Alice turned to her side to face the wall. The exhaustion eventually overcame her and she fell asleep.

* * *

Chingachgook turned to see the snow swirling outside briefly as the flap from the wigwam abruptly drew open.

Hopocan grunted in annoyance at this disturbance as Chemames strode in casually and sat across the smoking men. Tankwawun crept in quietly some moments later, wrapping her bear hide covering over her slender frame tightly. Shivering, she sat beside her mother.

Both women murmured greetings; Chingachgook and Hopocan reciprocated.

"And how are your families, my friends?" Chemames asked in Delaware, watching the older men pass their usual clay pipe back and forth casually.

"My family is well. We give thanks to the Great Spirit," replied Hopocan with reserve.

"The Master of Life is good," was Chingachgook's usual riposte. He felt tension from Tankawun's mother, and he wondered about her sudden visit with her daughter. Either way he would not pry. If the woman had something to say, she would have to find the words.

"How are your sons?" she asked a little insistently. At this query Chingachgook gave a rare smile.

"My eldest son has recently wed, only one moon ago. Before the snow began to fall. His wife continues to stay with my son's friends until the season turns."

Chemames nodded kindly and said soft words of congratulation. Hopocan threw his friend a cynical look and Chingachgook gave a tiny nod. _Yes, I also know why she is here, _his eyes said.

Chingachgook waited for her to begin her interrogatory anew. He did not have to wait long.

"Uncas. Your younger son."

"I hardly see him. He spends most of his time with my white son or Wagion."

"Will he be in the camp today?" asked Chemames. Chingachgook grunted casually, a noise that could be taken for any answer.

Chemames began to look frustrated, but strove to hide it. Sitting up sharply she regarded Chingachgook with great seriousness. "My friend, I have come to ask if you had given any reflection to my proposal of a union between our children. Uncas is fond of my eldest girl. It would be a good match."

"Has Uncas told you this... Tankawun?" asked Hopocan slyly, puffing his pipe slowly.

Tankawun looked at the ground and seemed to be searching for words. Chemames hastily put in, "Not so much in words, friend. That is not the way of a man. I refer to his mannerism."

Chingachgook considered this. Uncas rarely spoke of anything he assumed his father might consider trivial, young girls fitting neatly into that category. But he doubted his youngest son had any deep interest in Tankawun. So Chingachgook maintained his silence.

"Have you spoken to Uncas?" asked Chemames, frowning slightly at Chingachgook's aloofness. Chingachgook had mentioned he would broach the subject to his son.

Chingachgook took his time answering, as he was handed the pipe by his friend.

"Not yet. I have been trying to observe our children together first. I did not discern any feelings beside kinship between them." Chingachgook said this slowly. Glancing up he saw Chemames' eyes had narrowed.

"Well," the woman replied at length, "what they share is quiet and in its early stages, I think. In time it will grow into the sort of relationship to build a life with." Tankawun continued to be unusually quiet.

There was a lull in the conversation then for several minutes and Chingachgook listened to the sound of the wind and snow.

"There has been talk in the camp, about Uncas," Chamemes said suddenly, casting a sideways look at the Mohican. Chingachgook merely cocked a dark brow.

"About Uncas and... the Yengeese girl," Chames continued after peering again at Chingchgook's impassive face, that so resembled his son's at the moment. "They say there is something between them. I cannot give it credence. It does not seem natural."

"Then let us speak of it no more," replied Chingachgook lightly, draping the hide shawl across his chest.

"Chingachgook, that frail looking girl walked into the camp and then departed with your son at her heels..." She changed tactics abruptly. "She is as thin as a reed blowing in the wind; and sickly looking, not as healthy nor as beautiful as my daughter. She would not make a good wife to one such as your son. One of the last of his tribe. Uncas must know-"

"What is your opinion, Tankawun?" interrupted Chingachgook suddenly.

The young girl looked up, startled. She looked from her mother's earnest face to the solemn, unblinking ones of the men. Her reply was hesitant.

"I... I thought she was pretty. And very nice." At this, Chemames impatiently expelled a great puff of air.

"What, Mother? Is this not what I was asked?" Tanawun's face was creased with confusion.

"No, child," replied Chemames stiffly. "The question is whether or not that pale-faced girl would make a good wife to one of our own race."

Tankawun seemed to give the answer reflection. "I think," she said slowly, "that not at first. But I think she can learn. She seemed to have a good ear for our language. She is not dull. She would learn quickly."

Chemames began to look incensed, as if her daughter were deliberately provoking her. "Is _that _what you think, then?"

"Your daughter speaks with honesty. The only true way to speak." Chingachgook's tone was icy now in rebuke.

Chemanes seemed cowed and her next words were much smoother. "Of course I am happy my daughter is so open and her words honest. But I am dismayed that she does not seem to grasp the seriousness of the situation. People were already saying that Uncas and Tankawun would soon marry. Now they talk of nothing but his supposed foolish passion for that white girl."

Hopocan waved a hand dismissively. "Let the people spread whatever gossip they wish. Mannitto, Maker of Life, will help guide us all in our decisions."

"I agree," intoned Chingachgook steadily. "And furthermore, my son has not indicated to me that he wishes to marry any particular woman at the moment."

Hopocan rose suddenly. "Let us remedy this situation. It is beginning to bore me." He started towards the wigwam entrance.

"What is happening?" asked Tankawun, confused.

"I believe he is calling my sons. I was about to do the same," Chingachgook replied, satisfied. Despite their striking difference in temperament, Hopocan and he shared a lifetime of history and their thoughts usually ran the same course. Hopocan had realized at some point that Chingachgook had tired of the painfully awkward conversation and discussing his son who were not present.

Hopocan returned within minutes. He walked in, shaking the snow off. He sat as the brothers peered in, perplexed.

"Found them doing absolutely nothing with Wagion and Anicus," Hopocan muttered. "Counting acorns on the ground, perhaps." His black eyes slid to the younger men.

"Sit," he ordered, his tone overbearing.

The young men complied, sitting cross-legged beside their father. They became attentively silent.

"Has something happened, Father?" asked Uncas, who had become alarmed at the somber demeanor of the people crowding the wigwam.

Chingachgook lifted a fur covered shoulder. "I thought perhaps you should be present, Uncas, as we have been discussing you. I would like my older son's opinion on the matter as well."

Uncas's face became guarded and mask-like. Nathaniel looked weary as he looked at all the faces but had, wisely, chosen to remain silent.

Chingachgook had no intention of mincing words. "The camp continues to spread gossip and endless, stupid chatter of you and that moon-colored girl."

Uncas looked annoyed at these unwelcome words. "I know. I have heard," he said shortly.

Nathaniel rolled his eyes. "I still do not understand why Uncas and I must be present."

Hopocan looked crafty. "Because Chemames and her daughter think this concerns them."

Uncas was confused. "In what way?"

Tankawun had the grace to blush. "I am not sure as well. My mother dislikes this gossip with the girl and thinks it will negatively affect you."

Chemames cut in. "There is much talk about that feeble white girl, Uncas."

Nathaniel spoke up. "Her name is Alice and she is now my sister-in-law." He sounded cold. "I will not allow anyone to slander her, as she is my family now."

The older Lenape woman looked dryly at Nathaniel. It was obvious she had a low opinion of him. Nathaniel had been schooled, thanks to experience, from a very young age to recognize when people were mentally scorning his white blood.

"Then as her _brother_," she had a note of sarcasm to her, "you must surely guide her and instruct her on how to act. She walks into our camp with no thought of the -"

"I brought her here and Uncas saw her home. She was not without a chaperone." Nathaniel's voice was nettled.

Chemames, however, would not be deterred. "It is clear to me that the girl is lacking a parent's discipline."

"Her parents have passed. Her father was murdered by Huron on the warpath."

Chemames did not look too sympathetic, likely because her own husband was killed by British soldiers.

"Then as you are now head of the family, it is your duty to straighten her perverse ways! It cannot be remedied that she is white. But she is causing scandal with her actions. She is around the same age as Tankawun, old enough to be married by now. That is…" The woman's lip curled slightly. "If any man will have her."

Nathaniel looked for the only way to salvage Alice in this cruel depreciation. Without thinking he blurted out, "My wife's sister has never had any difficulty in this aspect. She was engaged in her homeland to a wealthy man, but she called it off."

Uncas looked up, incredulous. He spoke in Mohican out of astonishment. "I had not heard that."

Nathaniel looked hard at his brother. In these last few weeks since his marriage to Cora, Nathaniel had found himself out of sorts with Uncas and he knew it was because of Alice.

"It was not so much an actual engagement, I am told. She had agreed to it and found they were unsuited, so she quietly broke it off with the man," Nathaniel spoke this. He added, "I would not have said anything, but somebody must defend Alice against such unkind words."

The implication was very clear. Nathaniel knew he was being unfair as this was simply Uncas' nature. Always calm. A mediator.

Uncas said nothing. He looked at the ground and concentrated on his thoughts.

Chemames at this point seemed to have realized she had crossed the line from indignant to unequivocally harsh, judging from the cold looks she was receiving from the men in the wigwam. She looked flustered and uncomfortable.

"This will be settled now. I have decided this," Chingachgook said, very severe. "I have already spoken to my son in regards to the Yengeese girl. Now we will settle the matter that you came here for an answer to, Chemames. Uncas." His eyes turned to his youngest son. Uncas looked up.

"Chemames came to me before the end of the hot season and spoke of marriage between you and Tankawun. She has given her reasons, and on many points I agree. Tankawun's father is with his ancestors now, and with the Great Spirit. He was my friend. I would be proud to have his eldest child as my daughter."

Nathaniel breathed deeply and looked sideways at the opening of the wigwam. Hopocan stared at his friend without moving, deep in thought. Uncas nodded slowly and silently bade his father continue.

"However," Chingachgook said this slowly. "My son has remained silent to all these voices, the critical voices and well-meaning ones. He shows wisdom and restraint. So I must ask him now to give his final answer concerning a marriage to Tankawun, if he is so inclined and his heart be free of any burden or regret."

Uncas kept his father's steady gaze as his words sunk in. If he chose Tankawun as a wife, his life would be simple, free of any unexpected paths. Perhaps they could grow to be quite content. His father would be happy with Uncas settled, with grandchildren.

Uncas pondered it for a long while in silence and felt his resolve grow. He had come to a decision.

Sitting up slowly he glanced at Tankawun, who looked at him with child-like trust and idolization, just as she had when she was a gangly girl of 12 summers. Uncas felt affection for the girl mingled with sadness.

"Tankawun, walk outside with me."

Chemames nodded enthusiastically. "Yes," she intoned, "Go with Uncas, my child."

Minutes later the two young people were pacing the snowy trails near the forest, away from prying eyes. Tankawun was bundled tightly into her black bear hide.

"Uncas?" asked Tankawun in a small voice after several minutes. Uncas stopped and turned to her.

"Tankawun, I am sorry that people had to talk the way they did, and pressure you," said Uncas in Delaware. "I also agree with many of the things my father said."

Tankawun looked up, her eyes shining with hope and took an eager step towards Uncas.

Uncas shook his head. "Tankawun. Forgive me. But I cannot make you my wife. It would not be right. Not when I do not feel the same way for you."

Tankawun face went into a rapid array of emotions. Her first initial reaction was complete shock, then disbelief, embarrassment, before adapting a pained look of acceptance. She took a shaking breath.

"So it's true then? The rumors? Uncas? You gave your heart to a Yengeese girl?" Her tone was not derisive or disgusted. She spoke as one who wanted the final truth.

"Let us go back inside," was Uncas's solitary reply as the snow danced and whirled around them, turning the world white.

* * *

Uncas sat in his family's empty wigwam, waiting for Nathaniel. The last two days had been eventful. After it became known that Uncas had rejected Chemames' offer of marriage towards her daughter, the older woman had become unfortunately offended. By the next morning, the news had spread like wildfire.

Chingachgook, for the most part, had taken it all in stride and had not commented on any of it. He acted as if he found all the talk boring and distasteful. Hopocan was ready with sharp words whenever he saw people staring at Uncas or whispering. The only good news was that the gossip was quickly dying.

Uncas had not wanted to hurt or humiliate Tankawun. He did what he could to spare her this. He put the blame solely on himself and readily admitted that Tankawun would make a fine wife. He was not inclined to marry at this point, was his final say.

Nathaniel strode inside casually, muttering of the cold outside. Sitting across his younger brother, Nathaniel eyed Uncas expectantly.

"So," said the older brother in English, "our stay at the camp has not been boring, to say the least." Nathaniel let out a wry chuckle and Uncas smiled, nodding.

"I wanted to speak to you, brother," Uncas said tacitly. Nathaniel waited. "About Alice."

At these words Nathaniel leaned back and regarded his brother warily for some moments before speaking. "Why now?"

Uncas looked disquieted and looked down at his hands. "Before was not a good time," he replied.

"And now is?" shot back Nathaniel incredulously. "Uncas, you may be my brother but that does not change the fact that you hurt her deeply. You were more careful with Tankawun's feelings than Alice's."

Uncas looked up defiantly. "That is not true."

"It is," Nathaniel said determinedly. "Alice took a risk coming here to see you. I don't reckon many English girls would do the same. You rejected her; this hurt her. She is my wife's sister. And now everyone knows that something happened between you."

"I admit I do not have Father's wisdom. I thought I was doing what was right, what was expected," Uncas replied, his eyes swimming with confusion.

Nathaniel let out a sigh and shook his head, not knowing what to say.

"Let me know about the man," came Uncas's voice, suddenly.

"What man?"

"The man Alice was suppose to marry in England."

"Well…" said Nathaniel slowly. "I only heard bits of it from my wife. I don't reckon she knows the whole story."

"Tell me what you know, brother. She never told me this."

"Alice doesn't mention it almost at all." Sitting up straighter, Nathaniel began. "Their father arranged it. Cora mentioned Alice seemed content at first. The man's name was Jeremy something-or-other. It was not a formal engagement, whatever the hell that means. Something about how it had not been announced."

Uncas tilted his head, his gaze intense, but said nothing. Nathaniel continued.

"After awhile an estrangement began to grow between Alice and the Englishman. There was an argument and Alice called the whole thing off." Nathaniel finished his story, feeling inadequate.

"That's it?" asked Uncas, brows raised.

"What did you expect me to say, brother?" Nathaniel replied a little defensively. "That Alice went into a complete fit and threw him from a window? She told him to go to hell and that was the end of it."

Nathaniel's eyes hardened as he stared intently at Uncas. "What are you planning, brother?"

"What do you mean?"

"I reckon I aint in the mood for children's games, Uncas. What is it you plan to do now that it's been decided that you will not marry little Tankawun?"

Uncas looked into his brother's bright blue eyes and for a moment compared them to Alice's. He decided that hers were a lighter shade than his brother's. He remembered staring into her eyes for the first time on the George Road. He had let the horses loose and had noted with amusement as a silly girl took after them with a shriek. Grabbing her forearms, annoyed, he locked eyes with Alice.

He still recalled with clarity all these moons later the impression she had made, how her large eyes seemed to swirl with light, how he had been reminded of the sky and clear water on a summer's day; of all things beautiful.

It was such an exquisite pain, to cherish someone so fiercely and deeply and to feel them falling deeper into an abyss. What if Alice left for England? What if she found a good man that made her happy and they married?

The thought came as sudden as a blow to his gut. It shook him so thoroughly that Uncas looked down, away from his brother's inflexible stare. This must have been the feeling Alice had had after she had left his side the last time they saw one another.

The remorse that had surfaced from time to time over this whole sordid mess reared up and left him feeling perturbed and censurable. Nathaniel was right. He had thought of so many things, of being a good son, of not offending Tankawun and her mother… not in making Alice happy or fully appreciating the depths of her feelings for him, or the lengths she went to see him.

"Well?" demanded Nathaniel keenly, cutting through Uncas' reverie. Uncas shook his head slowly, not willing or able to articulate this all into words. Nathaniel scanned his brother's face and tilted his head curiously.

As always, as brother bound deeper than blood or shared race, Nathaniel knew.

Uncas watched as Nathaniel let out a long breath and nodded. Looking up, their eyes met.

"I want you to know, Uncas," said Nathaniel in a low voice, switching to Mohican, "that Alice is a rare find. She is among the most loyal and giving of all people I have ever met. Sure, she is stubborn as a mule and hardheaded, but… what she feels for you - it never stopped. You have my support, if you choose to win her again. I believe you can make each other happy."

"Take me with you to see her," Uncas stated, his eyes intent. Nathaniel's face split into a blinding grin.

"It's funny, little brother. She said almost the exact same thing to me once."

* * *

James stood outside the cabin besides his wife, attempting to shovel some of the snow that led in a path to their cabin. Reaching up, he rubbed her cold cheek and planted a long kiss on her that made her giggle.

"Still cold, my sweet?" he asked gently.

"No, my love. Not with you beside me," she replied, her voice soft and content.

They continued their pace until the path looked newly cleared. Annabel craned her head up worriedly, straining against the dark overcoat as she looked relentlessly at the sky, murmuring that the coming snow would make their efforts fruitless.

"No matter, bonnie wife. We will simply clear it again if it snows," James said simply. This was his philosophy in life, not to fret overmuch over the inevitable.

"How are the sisters?" he asked his wife suddenly, stopping Annabel as she was turning to hurry back into the cabin.

"Well enough. Alice is mending, and Cora took over the cooking."

"Alright." James nodded, tossing his blonde hair back and scattering snow crystals from his mane.

Annabel sidled over to her husband and wrapped her arms around him, dropping her head into his chest. With a happy sigh James drew her coat more securely around her and held her close.

"Do you remember when we first met all those years ago?" he whispered, stroking her dark hair.

Annabel nodded. "I do. I asked you if you were hungry when I found you in the stables and you only stared at me."

"I was shy."

"No, you weren't."

"I was," James insisted. "You stole all my words away when my gaze fell upon you. And you took me into the kitchens and had them serve me a hot meal… I watched you as you spoke to the cooks and servants. There was no superiority or contempt for them in your voice."

"Mmm…" Annabel gave a gentle murmur, recalling those long forgotten days.

"You would walk with such ease and manners. You sat with your hands folded on your lap, so sweet and proper," he continued, planting a soft kiss on her cold forehead. Annabel craned her neck up to stare at him. "It tormented me, the thought of wanting this wealthy society girl whom I knew I could never have. I knew I had nothing to offer you."

"One day in the garden after dark," he continued in a silky whisper. "I kissed you." James caught his wife's lips with his, tenderly. "Like this," he whispered.

James held her tighter, his breath foggy in the crisp air. He remembered so, so clearly the hope that spread through his entire being that day in his youth when the beautiful daughter of his employer told him she loved him, that she always would, that she would follow him wherever in this world that he went.

They were still in their late teens when they had married in secret and took off for the colonies. Annabel packed her most treasured possessions and jewels into her trunk, insisting she would not take anything that belonged to her parents. _Thievery, especially against one's own family, is unpardonable, _she had said.

Life had been so strenuous and unpredictable at first, their challenges formidable. They had stayed at inns and boarding houses in Philadelphia at first, unable to decide what to do. Annabel had known nothing of cooking or cleaning and had depended solely on her husband, and James was unable to find suitable work to make an income. They spread out their the money they had, which was meager. Many days they had no food.

But James was always optimistic. He had always assumed he would be a craftsman of some sort, as his father had been, perhaps a mason or cobbler. He first thought of farming on a summer night that was so sweltering that he had lain shirtless next to his sleeping wife, sweating like a horse, unable to do anything to assuage the incredible heat or pangs of hunger in his belly. He felt the most terrible, hopeless pain, knowing his wife must have felt the same but chose to say nothing.

_I'll be a farmer, _he thought suddenly. James decided to learn what he could and leave the towns and make a homestead. Annabel was a city girl, but she would accustom. He had been sure of it. James learned as best he could and had listened to the talk of the traders he worked for, with their rough ways, and soon they set out for the Valley and made their home.

"Do I make you happy?" Annabel whispered suddenly, cutting through his musings.

"Yes, always. Everyday," James replied with the utmost surety and conviction. "You are the other half of me."

Annabel stared into his eyes and said in a small, uncertain voice that was unlike her. "It is only that… my dearest wish that I pray for constantly is to have children, for you. A little boy that looks like you."

"I prefer a little girl that looks like you, especially if she puts on airs as you do, my love," James said, grinning. He took on a serious countenance. "Annabel, if the good Lord decides to bless us with children that will be wonderful. But you make my world complete, just by being in it. I suggest you put it out of your mind. Children will come when God wishes it and if not, you are still my little queen in our little manor, living in our little kingdom."

Annabel let out a full-bellied laughing. "You… you have not said that in years, I think," she said, wiping at the tears of mirth from her eyes.

James spread feather-light kisses across her lips and cheeks and neck, whispering, "Our little kingdom that is Heaven on earth, with daffodils and lilies blooming in the summer for my Queen's court, and ice castles in the winter…"

They were still giggling uncontrollably and leaning against each other to avoid slipping when James stood straighter and squinted into the path that led to their cabin.

"Robert?" he inquired loudly, as his friend walked slowly, shivering, up to the couple.

"Haven't seen you in weeks, Robert. I was trapped indoors with the cold and snow. What is it?" asked James again with trepidation, watching Robert Lancaster's closely as he looked unusually grim.

"Sickness is spreading across the Valley," replied Robert soberly, laying his musket across his shoulder. His face looked tired.

"Sickness?" asked Annabel in fear. "Which one?"

"Yellow fever, perhaps?" Robert replied.

James shook his head. "Doubtful. It passes to people from bites of mosquitoes, I have heard. In the warm months."

"There are none of those plaguing insects this time of year," Annabel agreed softly.

Robert shrugged. "Ay, but there is some sort of bilious fever sweeping throughout. The Robertson's already buried their two little ones."

Annabel gave a gasp of horror and James shook his head dolefully; both of them remembered the little boy and girl who played by the cow pasture when their parents would come to visit.

"It struck the Newsom farm, Gregory recovered but his wife…" Robert's trailed off as Alice and Cora drew up to them, looking concerned as they noticed the men's faces were apprehensive, and Annabel was weeping.

After explaining to the sister's the situation they discussed what they should do. Mr. Newsom was still frail and Priscilla Newsom was in her last stages. Robert Lancaster stated he could not go to the Newsom's as he did not dare risk carrying the infection back, worried as he was about his own children and his wife Margaret, who was again pregnant with a child.

"We must help them!" said Cora with conviction, rubbing her arms for warmth, her thin blanket not much use against the cold.

Annabel nodded. "I agree. James, you must travel in search of a doctor. They are our neighbors, James."

"I agree, darling. I just do not wish to leave you girls…"

Robert cut in. "I will go with you. I will not visit the Newsom's farm. I have my babies and wife to think of, but we can take my horses to fetch Doctor Braddock. He works close with the Jesuits. He will help us."

"Where is he?" asked James uncertainly.

"Bethlehem."

James could only gape. "Bethlehem? That will be two days even on horseback. We may as well go to Philadelphia." He took a deep breath and sought to calm himself. He did not wish to leave the women as it would be at least 3 or 4 days, even at break-neck speed. But Annabel was also right. The Newsom's were their neighbors and he could not think to sit idly, hiding from the unnamed disease, while their neighbored suffered and died.

"Alright. Robert, we go now. Come, we must prepare," James said this stoutly as they all ran inside.

"Annabel, there is enough food to last the week, although I think it best if you girls ration," James called from the far end of the cabin as he reloaded his rifle and swung the strap holding the caisson of powder over his left shoulder.

Annabel ran, filling canteens of water and searching for sustainable food, while the sisters hurriedly prepared the satchels.

The cabin was warm and bright, but none felt it. The thought of the sickness befalling more people was a sobering thought.

"Done," exclaimed James, standing up beside his friend Robert. He surveyed the women and his face drew with worry. Walking to his wife, he gave her a long kiss and they clung to each other.

"Be brave, my bonnie wife," he whispered as Annabel swallowed back more tears.

"I will," she replied thickly. "The girls and I will take care of each other." James slowly let go of his wife and the two men headed for the door.

"Alice!" he called as he swung the door open. "You know the land just as well as I do. Mind the farm please and feed Boadicea. Annabel and Cora, please watch the cabin and cook."

The three women nodded silently. They linked their hands together and watched, numbly, as they two men departed quickly to the Lancaster for horses and more provisions, then they would head immediately to Bethlehem.

Later that day Alice crept inside the shadowed cabin, her teeth chattering from the cold. She had just finished hauling in more wood from the pile, shoveled the snow from around the cabin and fed Boadicea.

Annabel and Cora had cleaned the cabin and were making broth for supper; they all did what they could to abstain from thinking of sickness and death that was felling their neighbors.

Alice sat down and drew the coat off her shoulders, placing it on the back of the chair. She consumed the broth quietly, not tasting it. It was a very weak broth with only a few stringy greens, but they had to ration. Afterwards she put her elbows up on the tables and rested her head on her hands.

"I was thinking, ladies," she said suddenly.

"Of what, sister?" asked Cora.

"If I should go to the Newsom's and tend to Priscilla."

Cora sunk deeper into her chair with a groan, putting a shaking hand over her eyes. Annabel shook her head and looked to the fire.

Cora suddenly banged her clenched first onto the wooden table with surprising strength, making the bowls clatter.

"I forbid it!" she shouted, her eyes wild.

"Cora…" murmured Alice.

"No!" retorted her older sister. "Alice, you have many, many note-worthy characteristics, but a strong constitution is not one of them. In Iverness and London, when a sickness came, you were always the first to come under it's grip."

Cora shook her head fiercely. "We will wait for Doctor Braddock. I wish with all my heart to help our neighbors but you have no medical expertise. You will only put yourself at risk needlessly."

Alice sipped at her cold tumbler of water and felt the liquid creep down her throat and into her belly. She pondered her sister's words, but could only think of Gregory Newsom, alone and forsaken, with no one to help him in his weakened state as he cared for his dying wife.

Alice stood and went to fetch James' spare satchel. She began to tuck inside small loads of bread, then filled two lidded decanters, one with water and the other with the remaining broth.

Cora's face began to redden as she fought the overwhelming rage that shook her to the core. Standing up, she made a move to rush to her sister and knock those items to the ground.

Annabel stopped her quickly with a hand to her left forearm, her gaze stern yet understanding and responsive.

"Alice, I shall accompany you," Annabel stated and began to pack more essentials such as blankets and even a smaller cast iron pot. "For broth," she said simply as they both looked at her, dumbfounded.

"No, Annabel," pleaded Alice. "I wish you both to stay here as I will not return for some time. I will not bring the fever back here -"

"My sister is right," said Cora, glaring at Alice. "I will go. I have had medical training in Europe. You must stay and watch the farm and feed Boadicea."

After much arguing and storming about the cabin, the sisters wrapped a coat and blankets around them, shouldered their loads and stepped out on the mile long trek to the Newsom's.

An hour later, Annabel sewed a rip in Cora's dress with shaking fingers and heard a knock. Tossing the dress aside, she ran eagerly to the door and yanked it open; her face fell when she saw who stood there.

"Beggin' your pardon, Mrs. Stewart," said a gangly, freckled youth; Mrs. Mason's eldest boy, a lad of 14 years named Stephen. He tipped his tattered old hat. "I just came to see how you lot were holdin' up. Fever took the Logan's wife and baby up to Jesus. My ma sent me to check on you, without enterin' your house, of course."

Annabel leaned against the door for support. "It is only me here," she replied listlessly. "My husband and Robert Lancaster went in search of a doctor. Cora and Alice went to the Newsom's."

Stephen Mason cocked his head, his eyes compassionate. "Is there anything that I can do, Mrs. Stewart?"

Annabel felt a smile curve her lips and did not answer for a long moment. "You are a good boy, Stephen. A good son to your widowed mother. And I thank you, my lad, but there is nothing you can do for me now. Just go home and take care of your mama."

Stephen took the hat from his red hair and twirled it casually in his hands, still looking saddened. "Alright," he agreed, then paused. "Is there truly nothing I can do?"

"No, my boy. Not unless you can make my husband and friends materialize, or Cora's husband."

Stephen's face lit with boyish curiosity. "He lives down with the Delaware, don't he, Mrs. Stewart?" Annabel nodded, staring at the ground.

"I'll go."

Annabel's head shot up comically fast. "What?" she demanded.

"I will go to the Indian camp and fetch Nathaniel. I reckon Cora needs her man and you shouldn't be alone like this, besides."

"My dear boy, I thank you with all my heart but I cannot consent. Those red men do not take kindly to whites walking into their camp. I have heard from a reliable source. What would I say to your dear mama who has already lost your father? No, Stephen."

Stephen shook his head and placed his father's old hat on his flaming tresses. "Mama always tells me to help those in need. You all are doing so. Besides, I've always wanted to see a red camp up close. It's that way, right?" he pointed to the path leading to the abandoned camp.

"No," she said slowly. "They are in the winter camp at present, a day's journey westward towards the Susquehanna."

Stephen mulled over this. "Near 'Castor county? Where the rivers meet?" Annabel nodded.

"It's about a days journey but if I leave now I can camp out and quicken my pace by morning. I would be there just after noon, I reckon."

"Stephen, my lad, please reconsider," Annabel said weakly.

"I will bring Nathaniel and whoever else wants to help. Besides, they should know the killin' fever is sweeping the Valley."

"They most likely already do, Stephen Mason!"

"You take care, now," Stephen said blithely, then began to whistle as he walked up the trail heading towards the river, with the snow swirling madly around them. Annabel gaped at him, then closed the door gently.

Annabel sat forlornly on the table as the firelight died and did not have the spirit to even move and stoke the flames. She stared unseeingly into the hearth and prayed for her husband and for Alice and Cora, who only a few short months before had arrived as strangers and had grown so uncommonly dear.

* * *

Please R&R, thank you all and please thank Departed. My laptop fried so it is very hard for me to work on my chapters but I am doing my best, I love this story. But more than anything I am grateful to my readers. Next chapter will be up this coming week, I know you all have been asking about Uncas and Alice sooo.. I think you will enjoy Chap 13!


	13. Chapter 13

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_ChapterThirteen_

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Stephen Mason dragged his feet against the snow, his rusted old musket in his right hand, as he ventured deeper into the snowy woods. He whistled a jaunty tune to keep his teeth from chattering. He had camped out and built a fire in the woods the previous night, even had a good amount of sleep, rising as dawn broke overhead.

It was already past noon, he thought, and he was exhausted and half-frozen from having walked briskly for hours.

His tri-corned hat, his gun, and his shoes had all once belonged to his father and he grunted as he felt the snow sinking into the spotty holes in the soles and freezing his feet. _Ma will flay me alive, _he thought in passing; she was terrified of her oldest son catching cold.

"Oh look there. Smoke," he said aloud to himself, then rubbed his hands together, feeling terrified and gleeful and unable to resist the allure of the unknown. He was truly enthusiastic at the thought of seeing the camp first-hand. He had seen from a distance that they wore such strange clothing, had ingenious ways of catching animals to eat, and were brave and fierce.

He had also heard that they made their prisoners run a deadly gauntlet and skinned them and dismembered them. But Stephen was not concerned as the Jesuits, and Mama had told him these were all silly tales told by terrified settlers who had feared them since they had first settled on these shores over a century before. His mother had told him the red men only wished to live in peace.

As he drew close to the camp, he heard shouts in an unknown tongue and female voices screaming. He stopped, perplexed. Stephen slowed his pace as his instincts took over.

Walking into the camp, he put his hands up in a passive gesture. The snow had stopped and he could clearly see the natives up close now, and they did not look pleased. He watched with fascination as they drew up to him in this peculiar clothing made of animal hide. The women and children withdrew and suddenly he was faced with a group of men, all pointing bows and arrows at him.

Stephen had one characteristic that he hated - his fear-induced laughter. It could not be helped; whenever he felt skittish or afraid he had a habit of letting out peels of nervous chuckles. Unfortunately it had before earned him a split lip or more when faced with the wrong person and he fought desperately to stem the laughter that was bubbling in his throat.

Holding his hands higher he said, "I mean you all no harm, my… friends. My red.. er.. My red brethren."

His words earned him a sharp poke in the neck from a young man's arrow who looked at him in stone-faced, fearsome silence.

Without looking away from the sea of copper skinned faces, and without lowering his arms, Stephen let the strap of his musket slowly fall from his shoulders and into the ground, communicating silently to the men that he was only disarming.

One of the older men snatched his musket and they herded him into the camp, poking him with their arrows and pushing him with their strong hands.

"Alright, alright," Stephen groused as he was manhandled. "You lot don't have to do all this. Watch it - Watch where your point that, man!"

Ignoring him, the warriors pushed him down to the ground in front of a row of campfires in the middle of the camp. Stephen shook his head with a sigh and glanced around at the camp inhabitants. He noticed a little girl staring at him from behind a woman's skirts.

"Hello there!" he said, waving cheerfully. The girl gave a terrified gasp and ran into a flap covering that led into a strange round little house.

The men looked around to each other and muttered and one tapped himself on the head, nodding.

They must have thought he was some wandering idiot, Stephen realized, but better to think that than to think he was a danger. _Probably think I'm some demon too, with my red hair and freckles. _He made a move to stand and was pushed gruffly shoved down back onto the ground.

"Fine, have it your way, sirs," said Stephen, shrugging. He paused and said clearly, "I came in search of Nathaniel Poe."

They all stared blankly at him and he tried to describe the man. "Blue.. eyes?" he pointed to his own blue ones. "Tall!" He put a hand high into the air. "White. He was just married, too, to the lovely Cora Munro."

"_Longe Carabine_," replied an older Lenape man who had his black hair shaved into a long lock that ran down the back of his head. The man lowered his bow and arrow a fraction.

"No, Cora," Stephen asserted.

Suddenly the crowd parted and Nathaniel strode quickly up to him with another group of young men.

"Ah, there you are!" said Stephen enthusiastically. "Remember me? Stephen Mason, sir, at your serv -"

Nathaniel did not wait for the boy to finish. He grabbed him by the arm and hauled him up, saying placating words to the assembled crowd. Moving quickly, they made their way to one of the bark covered dwellings. Nathaniel moved the flap and tossed the young man unceremoniously inside.

Stephen fell into a heap with a grimace and stared at the interior in fascination, noting the dried corn and feathers and beads adorning it, the turtle shells that hung from strands of rope. He moved a curious hand to touch it when a stern voice cracked through the air like a whip -

"Boy. Do not touch that."

Stephen whipped his neck around and stared at two older Indian men who were eyeing him severely from their cross-legged position from the ground. Nathaniel and two other young men had joined them, making the room very cramped.

"My apologies. I just wanted to see what you would possibly do with turtle shells," he explained, grinning at the men. There was a pause.

"Rattles," replied one of the older men, lined tattoos marking his face, his tone disdainful.

"Ah," Stephen replied delicately. "I see."

"You have a stout heart, Mr. Mason," Nathaniel interrupted, shaking his dark head with a scowl. "Have you lost your mind? Why are you here?"

"Well…" he crossed his legs experimentally, observing the other men. "By the way, my name is Stephen Mason. It is nice to meet you all." Stephen gave a friendly wave to them all but none replied.

"I am Uncas, Nathaniel's brother. I remember you. You are John Mason's son." A young Indian man with high arched brows said this. Stephen replied that he remembered Uncas as well.

"Anicus. Welcome," replied another young man in crude English, even giving him a small smile.

"And my father and Hopocan." Nathaniel waved quickly to the older men who still sat silently, watching Stephen as a pair of hawks would watch an injured rabbit. "Why are you here, Stephen?" Nathaniel pressed.

"Right. Well, Mrs. Stewart sent me to find you."

The young men's eyes sharpened and they sat forward. "Is everything alright?" asked Uncas intently, scanning the younger boy's face.

"How is my wife? The Stewarts?" asked Nathaniel urgently.

Stephen paused for a long moment, recalling his mother's worried face as she bundled his little sister Lucinda into bed, worried that the fever would arrive at their farm.

Gazing up at the men he said, "Fever has swept across the Valley. Haven't you heard?"

Nathaniel gazed at him in disbelief. "The fever is up north, I reckon. A runner from the other camp across the hills came to us with the news a few days ago. Not here, boy."

Stephen shook his head. "It has been killin' off the people. The Robertsons lost their children. James and Robert Lancaster have traveled to find a doctor for our dying neighbors. I reckon it's important you all know that the fever is here."

"Thank you," said Uncas slowly and the boy nodded his head. "And what of my brother's wife, and her sister? And Mrs. Stewart?"

"Well, Mrs. Stewart is alone at the farm now. She sent me -"

"Why?" exploded Nathaniel. "Where is my wife?"

"The sisters went to the Newsom's farm about a mile away to tend to Priscilla and Gregory Newsom, who have fallen ill with the fever. Mrs. Newsom is dying," Stephen explained, dipping his head sadly.

There was a tense pause.

"Do you mean to tell me…" asked Nathaniel slowly. "That my wife and sister-in-law have gone into that home that is infested with fever?"

Stephen gave a cautious nod. Nathaniel looked worried and fearful. "Come on boy. We go," he said, starting to rise.

The flap of the wigwam drew open and Stephen noticed a woman peer inside, eyes roving over all of them. He smiled, but his overture was rebuffed as the woman scowled at him.

Nathaniel rolled his eyes and grit his teeth as Chemames drew into the already crowded wigwam, little Tankawun peeking inside.

"So," Chamames said to Nathaniel in Delaware, frowning, "is our camp to be overrun with every silly Yengeese adolescent in the region?"

Uncas spoke, his face impassive, but Nathaniel noted the misgiving behind his gaze. "The fever came. The young man has done us a great service by coming to warn us. My brother and I must go now to see his wife."

"Just your brother's wife?" Chemames sneered, but Uncas shook his head.

"And Alice as well."

Chemames looked affronted and outraged. Stephen fought a grin at the woman's angry demeanor. He could not understand a word of the exchange but knew his appearance had caused a stir.

Looking up, he glanced at the beautiful Indian girl who bore such a striking resemblance to the older woman that she could only be the woman's daughter. The dwelling had erupted in argument.

"Hello, pretty one," Stephen called to the girl above the din.

Nathaniel frowned. "Stop it, Mason," he ordered before turning to retort to something the shrill woman had said.

"And tell that boy with the ugly hair to stop gawking at my daughter!" Chemases all but roared in her language. "She is not a slab of meat on a rack!"

Uncas shook his head and gazed at his father and Hopocan, who looked unruffled. Standing up, he said in Delaware, "Let us go, brother. Let us take what we can to that family and bring the women back."

Tankawun suddenly spoke up. "I will go and help you." Her thoughts took a worried turn as she remembered the blonde girl and wished to aid her somehow. Tankawun felt no resentment towards the Yengeese girl.

Chemases' eyes flashed dangerously. "You, child, will return to our wigwam and stay there. You will not be infected with fever over some Yengeese people who are no concern to us."

Tankawun replied calmly. "Mother, I know much of herbs and helped our healer. The Master of Life will protect us."

"Let us go. We waste time," Nathaniel interrupted.

Chingachgook spoke up now in Delaware for all to hear. "Go, my sons. But take care not to be too close to any that are infected. Anicus will take you to the camp healer. She will give you the necessary herbs. You must make a broth, depending on the severity of the sickness."

The men began to silently stand when Chingachgook added, "If I do not hear from you all within two days, or if your tidings are grim, I will go myself."

His sons nodded and all began to leave. Stephen awkwardly climbed to his feet and bid them all farewell.

"Thank you for coming, Mason boy," stated Chingachgook in English, nodding. Stephen smiled and nodded.

"Your shoes," came the gruff voice of the other man, Hopocan. "They are damaged."

Stephen looked down and was slightly embarrassed as he regarded his sad, worn old shoes that had holes in them, and were too big.

"They are my only pair," Stephen explained. "They belonged to my pa."

Hopocan said something to Anicus, who immediately ran out of the wigwam, returning in a moment with a pair of soft shoes that appeared made out of deer-skin. He handed them to Stephen.

"For me?" asked Stephen, and was amazed and gratified as the other boy nodded.

"Thank you! My feet are always freezing in the winter." With a grin, Stephen kicked off his old shoes and pulled the new ones on with a happy expression.

"Moccasins," said Chingachgook, nodding. Anicus made a move to collect the old pair but Stephen drew them up against his chest. "It's fine. I want them. They were my pa's."

The group left the wigwam in an uproar - Chemames yelling at her daughter, the young men ignoring it all as they walked briskly in search of the healer, talking above the woman's shouts.

Chingachgook and Hopocan were now alone and stared at each other before Hopocan gave a grunt of amusement, shaking his head derisively.

"That oddity of a boy, with the flaming hair," said Hopocan after a beat. "I liked him. He has spirit."

Chingachgook agreed as his thoughts strayed to the boys and Tankawun. Hopocan read him easily.

"They will be alright," Hopocan said in Delaware. "I will call upon the Master of Life for protection."

"Let us make tobacco ties," said Chingachgook and the men prepared to meditate.

* * *

It was the next afternoon when the men and Tankawun emerged from the clearing that led to the Stewart's homestead.

Tankawun was bundled with bear hides against the cold, holding a basket of medicine from the camp healers. Her fingers were numb with cold as she gazed upon the darkened cabin and the surrounding farm.

"I don't think anyone is there…" she whispered to the brothers in her native tongue, who then quickened their pace.

Nathaniel ran inside, calling for Annabel and the sisters. Walking out again he told the assembled group that the cabin was indeed deserted.

Uncas had emerged from the barn. "The cow is there. Annabel left it enough food for days. She did not expect to return immediately when she left."

Nathaniel tried to think and finally asked Stephen where Mrs. Stewart could possibly be.

Stephen scuffed his feet against the snow covered ground and shrugged, contemplating. "Well, I know if I were in Mrs. Stewart's place I would not want to sit home and be useless. I reckon she went to the Newsom's home. It's about a mile from here. Your wife and her sister were there. She had told me."

"Let's go, then," Nathaniel declared, then turned and spoke to Tankawun gently in Delaware. "I think it best if you stay here, Tankawun. I will build you a fire and make sure you are settled."

Tankawun shook her head stubbornly, but she looked fatigued. "I wish to help. Our healer Tallegewi showed me how to make the broth. If your wife or the other women fall sick, we must hold a healing ceremony and try to make a small sweat lodge. It is fortunate we are so close to the frozen river."

"What's in there?" asked Stephen curiously, pointing to her woven basket. Tankawun understood his words and replied that they were special healing herbs and tobacco offerings for the spirits, among other things. Nathaniel translated as they hurried up the path again, heading towards the Newsom's.

"Spirits?" asked Stephen curiously, almost tripping on a tree root.

Uncas nodded. "We believe that spirits inhabit everything in nature. Every animal we slay to eat, every branch we cut, we pray to the inhabiting spirit. They are called _manetu. _The herbs in there serve a special purpose, along with the broth. It must be prepared carefully and stirred in the direction the sunlight travels daily - east to west."

"Oh… that sounds interesting. Hopefully we won't have to use them," Stephen replied as they covered more ground.

Tankawun was indeed tired and it slowed their progress considerably. About an hour later, Stephen pointed to a smoking chimney and a rather large homestead. A wooden fence encircled the perimeter of the farm and they all saw a dark haired female outside, tossing out water into the snow from a large basin.

Nathaniel took an eager step forward. "Cora!" he called, watching the woman turn slowly.

It was Annabel, her face pale and lined with worry. "Boys!" she called and attempted a smile as she stood.

"Mrs. Stewart, we went lookin' for you at your farm," said Stephen as he hurried to her side and took the basin from her hands.

"I couldn't bear the thought of leaving the girls alone here," replied Annabel with apparent anguish. "Mr. Newsom is still very weak, and I do not think…." her breath hitched. "I do not think Priscilla will live the night."

Uncas walked inside the cabin, noting the glass windows, the firelight dancing against the wooden walls. He frowned as the smell of sick assaulted his senses.

Against the wall of the cabin there was a long pile of hay and blankets atop it; lying prone there was small man who shivered, even though the cabin was warm. Cora was kneeling next to the man, holding his hand.

"Uncas?" came the voice of Cora, as she blinked at him in amazement. Nathaniel ran to his wife and embraced her tightly.

"Where is Alice?" asked Uncas before he could stop himself.

"Here…" he heard her voice and walked slowly to the bed at the far end. Alice sat beside a heavyset woman, mopping her fevered brow as the older woman turned fretfully in delirium. Uncas strained to listen to the woman's faint mumbling.

"Amy… where…" the woman moaned in her sleep, tossing and shivering.

"Alice," he whispered, taking in her rolled up sleeves, her drawn face, her upswept hair; limp strands of it which clung stubbornly to her forehead from perspiring. He felt emotion overcome him at seeing her looking so defeated and sad.

"Mr. Newsom was fine then suddenly collapsed again. He is slowly rallying. Mrs. Newsom is leaving us, I think. Perhaps tonight," Alice whispered, continuing to gently swath the woman's burning face with the moist rag.

"What are her symptoms?" asked Uncas, touching a finger to the woman's neck and noting her weak pulse.

"She is burning with fever, but shivers with cold. Before she fell under this delirium she complained of extreme thirst, but her throat is closed up. I cannot make her drink anything." Alice put the rag into the basin of water and sighed, running her fingers across her own temple. She continued after a moment.

"It cannot be yellow fever. That comes in the warmer months. Or scarlet fever; there is no red rash on either of them. It is not measles, and it is not the pox-"

"Shh… we came to help. You rest now, Alice," Uncas murmured, still gazing upon her.

Alice shook her head then turned, giving a wan smile to Stephen Mason. Her eyes slid from the boy's momentarily and a closed, guarded expression came across her face.

Uncas turned and watched as Tankawun neared Alice, her eyes compassionate. She spoke soft words and the girls greeted each other.

Nathaniel strode up to the bed with Cora and Nathaniel explained to Alice the herbs that they had brought over. Alice nodded mutely, her eyes going from Tankawun to Uncas before silently commencing the mopping of Mrs. Newsom's face.

Hours later, Nathaniel held up Mr. Newsom as Cora tipped the broth into his mouth that Tankawun had prepared. Tankawun sat by the fire, tossing bits of bark and plants into it that filled the room with a woody, piney fragrance and murmuring words.

"What is she doing?" asked Annabel as she washed soiled linens in a large basin of water. Stephen watched this all silently as he assisted Annabel.

Uncas and Alice still sat by Priscilla Newsom, who had taken a turn for the worst. Uncas simply replied, "For protection."

Nathaniel elaborated. "She is burning red cedar to ward off any bad spirits."

Tankawun stood with a concentrated expression and took from her basket bits of what looked like gnarled roots and set them aside. Surveying the cabin silently, she pointed to some glass bowls in a table near the hearth and spoke words to Uncas.

Slowly unwinding himself from his position next to Mrs. Newsom, Uncas fetched the bowls quickly and filled them with water from the large jug that sat on the table, setting one on the floor besides Mr. Newsom who was still weakened and asleep, and one gently on the ground besides the bed occupied by Alice and the ailing woman.

At the same time, Tankawun began to carefully shake the roots of any dirt, and cleaned them with a corner of her hide with extreme care. Standing, she gingerly placed one root in the bowl beside Mr. Newsom, and squatted on the ground beside the bed, placing the other root in that bowl. She returned to her place by the fire and sat as if waiting.

The English people in the room looked very perplexed. Only Nathaniel and Uncas found this to be extremely natural.

More time passed. Tankawun rose silently and examined each of the roots in their respective basins for long moments.

Standing up she spoke in Delaware to the men. "The husband will live. The roots floated and my senses tell me this. The wife will not live. I have prayed to Mannitto but it is not to be. I will only pray now that her passage be swift and painless, and that she join her fathers with an open heart and no regrets."

"She had much troubles in her life. Her heart was weighed down by it," Tankawun said this as an afterthought and knelt by Mr. Newsom, picking up his limp hand.

Nathaniel gave the grim prognosis in English for the benefit of the other cabin dwellers and Alice looked down at her patient in stunned disbelief. "No…" she whispered.

Alice shared frantic looks with her sister and Annabel. "Tankawun, I am sure you can help her! Will you not try?"

"She already has, Alice," replied Uncas, sitting beside her. "We have done all we can."

"And I thank you all but she cannot die. Doctor Braddock will soon be here. Perhaps he will bring a minister. She cannot depart from this life without being given her last rites!"

The others did not say anything for a moment until Cora shifted beside her husband and said in a voice that sounded depleted of strength, "Alice, we must rest. We have done what we can."

Cora rose suddenly and went in search of something in a trunk by the opposite end of the cabin. They could hear her rifling through it for some moments before she emerged with a heavy book, setting it onto Alice's lap. It was a beautiful, ornately designed Bible. Alice looked relieved.

"I found it while I looked for spare quilts," said Cora as she sat beside her husband again, resting her head against his shoulder. "It looks like it is valuable and very old. The inside shows the names and dates of birth and death of everyone in her family."

Alice ran a finger through the long list of names in minute handwriting, coming to the newest ones. Her eyes stopped as she read -

_Amy Clara Newsom, daughter of Gregory & Priscilla 1737-1743 Lux Eterna_

Besides the date of death, somebody had inscribed in fading ink,

_My most beloved treasure. _

Alice felt herself start to cry as she gazed at the page, regretting all those times she thought ill of her neighbor, when the poor, suffering woman had overcome hardships that she, in her own blind youth, could not compare with. The loss of her only child…

Opening the Bible she searched for Psalms, and Cora entreated Alice to read it aloud for the soul of Priscilla Newsom who would most likely leave them that night.

Alice read from the book and found solace. Then Nathaniel, Uncas, and Tankawun began to say words in their languages aloud, of faith and alleviation.

Alice slid to the floor with the Bible still in her lap and dropped her head onto Stephen Mason's shoulder, who sat quietly besides her. Looking up, she looked into Uncas' black eyes and tried to smile, then closed her eyes and tried to breathe as she prayed.

Outside, the moon had come up from behind the clouds as the night wore on and the inhabitants prayed hard for these cruel days to pass.

* * *

Much later that night, Alice still sat in the same position, her back to the bed, as she watched the flickering, dancing candlelight that Cora had set on one of the trunks beside the hearth. The candle would not last much longer.

Priscilla's cold hand lay hanging down beside her and Alice wound her warm fingers around it and pressed a cheek to the older woman's palm. She squeezed her eyes shut. _Live… _she thought fervently. But it was no use; Alice knew from experience, from Mrs. Newsom's rattling, labored breath that the woman was living her last hours.

Alice felt exhaustion on every inch of her body. They all had allotted the portions of meager bread that Alice had brought but everyone was still hungry.

Alice now took the time to wonder why Tankawun had accompanied the boys. She noticed that Uncas was extremely polite and cordial to the young girl, even as Alice could not understand their strange tongue, but she had also noted how the two kept a careful distance and there was an air of awkwardness between them.

So why was she here? Were they married? It was a strange sensation; Alice found it hard to look at the Lenape girl who had been graced with such loveliness, but at the same time liked and respected Tankawun. She was kind to all, most especially to the Newsoms, a white family she had never met and who most likely would never lift even a finger to come to her aid if their places had been reversed. Alice recalled Mrs. Newsom calling the Indians "_savages,_"with such abhorrence and scorn…

Shaking her head shortly at her train of thought, Alice dropped Mrs. Newsom's hand and rose to her feet.

Alice carefully leaned over checked the woman's vitals and tucked her more securely into her quilt.

"How is she?" came the whispered voice of Uncas who had soundlessly appeared beside her. Alice jumped.

"She is well… I mean to say, dying… but she seems to sleep more peacefully," Alice said quickly, rattled by his presence.

Turning slowly, Alice slid back down to the floor and drew her knees to her chest, carefully smoothing her skirts over her ankles and turning away from Uncas. She waited for him to rejoin Nathaniel.

To her shock, Uncas sat casually down beside her and, after a moment, began to trace his fingertips softly across the soft skin of her forearm. Alice felt her blood quicken with pure nerves.

"Alice…" he whispered gently.

"What?"

"I need to speak to you."

Alice felt a burst of temper. He ignored her in the camp months before, led her to believe he would wed another young woman, disappeared for months, and now he deigned to speak to her again and request her attention.

"Now is not the time for any nonsense you have in mind, Uncas," Alice whispered harshly. "It may have escaped your notice, but there are people in this room who are _dying. _Show some respect."

Uncas said nothing, but continued to drag his fingers across her arm silently. Alice petulantly drew her arm away from him. "Stop it," she ordered.

Galled at his actions, she asked Uncas bluntly, "What will your pretty wife think?"

Uncas shook his head. "I did not marry her, Alice. I want no other woman but one."

Alice peeked her eyes at him from around her upraised knees. "Is that right?"

Uncas confirmed with a nod and began to speak. Alice interrupted him, her heart too full to hear what he had in mind to say.

"I was… thinking. About life. And death. And what it means," Alice whispered as she turned her tired eyes to the pulsing candle by the hearth that was very low now.

Uncas leaned back, watching her attentively. "What are your thoughts, Alice?"

Alice was quiet a long moment and seemed to gather her thoughts. "My mother died giving birth to me. My father never remarried, nor ever loved another in his life."

"The Great Spirit wanted to see her," Uncas said gently, "and your father has joined his own fathers, beyond."

Alice turned to face him, her eyes pleading. "I wish I had your conviction. All my life I always felt such guilt and longed for the warmth of a mother's love. She was very beautiful. Cora resembles her so." Alice smiled to herself. "Curling dark hair, dark eyes."

Priscilla gave another rattling moan and Alice heard the wind howl outside, making the windowpanes creak. Shivering, she leaned closer to Uncas. He slid a strong arm around her back but kept silent.

"I often thought unkind things towards Mrs. Newsom previously. You cannot imagine how that torments me now. When I worked at her farm in the autumn I would arrive home and mock her… not cruelly, but thoughtlessly, in passing…"

Uncas looked confused. "Why did you work for her?"

"Did Nathaniel not tell you?" Alice asked, surprise apparent in her voice. Uncas shook her head.

Alice sighed. "No matter now. But what I am attempting to say is that Priscilla suffered so in her years. She lost her only child and I think this made her bitter. If I had but known this I would never have been so disrespectful. I cannot imagine anything worse than losing a child."

Uncas leaned his head gently against hers, consumed with the scent of her skin and hair.

"Death is always a possibility, Alice. Nothing is certain. When the people we care for leave us, they come to us in dreams to let us know they are happy and at peace. We must be sure to follow a correct path and not turn away from anything good the Master of Life sends our way."

Their eyes met. "That is what I must speak to you of…" Uncas murmured. "Alice."

Alice craned her neck up to see him more clearly, and closed her eyes languorously as he moved his arm up to trace his fingertips down the side of her neck. He watched with longing as Alice breathed more heavily, watched her moon-like hair and the lashes that framed her cheeks.

Leaning down, Uncas's lips met hers for a long kiss that left them both breathless. Sitting back slightly he caught the side of Alice's face in his palm and pressed another soft kiss on the side of her neck.

"I want to be with you always. I want you to be my wife," Uncas finally said.

Alice jerked her head up and Uncas read a torrent of emotions race across her face; the shock, disbelief, confusion, and happiness.

"Do you truly mean that?" she whispered, disbelief in her voice.

"Yes. I do not speak falsehoods."

"What of Tankawun?" Alice insisted. Uncas looked uncomfortable.

"She is not the one for me. There is only you."

"But you said… I thought… Uncas, I saw…" Alice could barely frame words at this point as the hope began to fill her so thoroughly. She sat up straighter, raking his face intently.

"Tankawun is a good person. I respect her and her family. I told her I could not marry her. She accepted this," Uncas said, trying not to grin at the sight of Alice stammering. He leaned forward, his eyes intense. Uncas captured Alice's shaking hand in his.

Alice began to smile. "But Uncas… where would we live? You are a hunter, and I have only begun to learn how to help run a farm."

"I will teach you. I will show you everything. You will bring me the most happiness in my life. It is you I will treasure."

Alice felt tears prick her eyes then and she leaned against Uncas, wrapping a hand around his neck. She thought of everyone she had met in life, how they had loved and lost and how they had reacted to their loss. Papa, unable to love another woman, but who showered his daughters with affection and tenderness. Of Mrs. Newsom who never let go of the pain of her lost daughter. Of dear Duncan who gave his life so that the woman he loved could live and love another. Annabel, who left her old life behind to sail to distant shores where she would be free to be with the man who cherished her.

"Yes," Alice murmured, no doubts in her mind now. If she could survive the death of her family, a massacre, sickness and deprivation, she could live happily with Uncas. She recalled what Annabel had once told her - how reputation is merely the world's opinion and how turning one's back to happiness is shameful.

Uncas tightened his hold on her. Leaning back against the bed frame, Uncas and Alice spoke in whispers of what they would do, of where they could possibly go, smiling into each other's eyes. Uncas gave Alice another long kiss, forgetting everyone around them.

Yawning, Alice leaned against Uncas's strong frame and closed her eyes as he stroked her hair. She clasped Priscilla's hand tightly once more and recited another prayer for the woman's soul as sleep took Alice into dreams.

* * *

Very early the next morning, Chingachgook strode purposely with Hopocan. All he could hear was the crunching of the snow beneath him; the earth around them was completely still.

Chingachgook had decided later in the previous day to seek his sons in the settlement. He did not wish to wait two days and Hopocan had gamely agreed to accompany him. He was most likely bored. That was usually the case.

They had reached the Stewart homestead and found it empty. They then tracked the group's passage through the forest. Apparently after finding the abandoned cabin, the young people had gone abruptly south.

Both men paused as they stared at the ground and the looming cabin that presented them both with their destination.

Hopocan gave a small snort. "Arrived at last. Looks like these Yengeese have money to throw away. Look at their glass windows and the size of their farm. They own twice as much land as the other family."

Chingachgook nodded, running weary fingers across his war club that he kept against his chest, behind his bear hide covering. The men moved forward until they came to one of the glass windows and Hopocan cleared some of the fingers of ice and fog to peer inside.

"Look." Hopocan turned to gesture his friend over, his expression unreadable.

Chingachgook walked to the window and scrutinized the inside. What he saw gave him pause.

He saw an older man wrapped in blankets and quilts, blinking confusedly up at the ceiling, too exhausted and ill to move. The man lay atop piles of blanketed hay. He did not notice the older Indian men outside the window.

In the interior of the cabin, Cora and Nathaniel lay atop more blankets, both asleep in each other's arms. Tankawun was curled to the side of Mr. Newsom, likewise slumbering.

Turning his gaze further into the home, he could make out the red haired boy sprawled on his back, his mouth gaping and his father's old shoes against his chest. The hearth next to him emitted faintly pulsing embers of light as the fire had not been tended during the night.

Finally he could barely see the outline of the blonde haired Yengeese girl sitting on the ground with her back resting against the bed. Uncas sat beside her in the same position and their faces in repose were close enough to touch. The girl's curled hand lay in the floor between them, his son's as well and from their position he knew they had held hands throughout the night.

Chingachgook composedly stepped back. He heard Hopocan say in a low voice, "So young. It is easy to forget those days; the youth have their own cares and worries."

By this point Chingachgook stepped stealthily to the entrance door, unsurprised to find it unlatched as he slowly and silently swung it open. Both men walked inside.

Nathaniel's eyes opened with a jerk and bolted upright, his hand instinctively reaching to his side for his long rifle which lay against the far wall. Squinting, he asked in Mohican -

"Father?"

Chingachgook nodded and replied, "I did not teach you to be so unprepared."

With that said, the two men walked into the cabin. Hopocan went to stoke the fire in the hearth and Chingachgook walked calmly around the cabin, watching as the young people slowly awakened.

"Father, welcome," Uncas said alertly, rising as Alice stirred.

Chingachgook went to the female lying on the bed and hovered his hand over her face with a concentrated expression, before slowly dropping his hand to his side and turning away from the white woman.

"Gone," he said simply.

"Gone where?' asked Alice, who was still very drowsy. She rubbed her eyes with a wince.

"Gone to join the Maker Of All Life," Chingachgook replied and a hushed silence fell over the inhabitants. Alice scrambled to her feet and peered at Mrs. Newsom. Uncas stood next to her and Alice leaned against him slightly.

"Last night I held her hand whilst I was in-between dreams and waking," Alice whispered. "I swear I felt her leave. A strange feeling passed through me. I also awakened from a dream just now, that Priscilla Newsom was walking side by side with her little daughter. She looked happy."

"She is," confirmed Uncas, wrapping an arm around Alice's trembling shoulders. "You did what you could. You made sure she did not leave this life alone and forgotten."

Chingachgook watched the tender way his son spoke to the young white girl, how she stared fixedly at him… and he resigned himself to this. That Uncas had chosen a Yengeese woman to be his wife and the mother of his children, as his companion for life. He had always told his sons that a man's heart could not be governed; he had learned this and witnessed this throughout his days.

But now the more pressing matter was the body of the departed Yengeese woman and her husband who was still weak.

"We must see to the body. She died of fever. She cannot remain here," Chingachgook said this in English, walking to the woman and gently covering her body, saying words of prayer.

Alice's gaze was timid, her voice hesitant as she approached Chingachgook. "How can we bury her if the ground is frozen?"

"We do not," Chingachgook replied seriously. "She must be placed above ground with rocks atop so animals will not get to her."

Alice looked absolutely horrified, shaking her head as words failed her. Uncas gave her an encouraging squeeze.

"Not like that, Alice," said Uncas at length. "We will built a casket for her. When the ground thaws she can be buried. The rocks will protect her from wild animals. This is all we can do."

Alice fought a shudder at the thought of a dead body above ground, then suddenly remembered Gregory Newsom.

Running across the cabin, Alice dropped to her knees beside the man on his makeshift pallet of hay. "Mr. Newsom!" She noted with gratification that the man was alive and lucid.

"God is indeed good and merciful, Mr. Newsom, to have spared you," whispered Alice, touching the man's hand softly. "But your wife…"

"I know, child… I know." He sounded weak. "She has joined our little Amy."

Alice nodded gently. "Do you need anything, sir?"

Uncas and his father watched the exchange in silence. Chingachgook studied the girl then directed his voice to his son -

"You have chosen, then? You will make her your wife?"

"Yes, Father."

"She consents?"

"She has. We will build a home in the spring."

"This is truly what you both wish for?" Uncas nodded.

Chingachgook noticed Tankawun standing to the side, packing her basket with concentration, but he knew that the girl was listening.

"Then my heart is glad for you, my son." With that said, Chingachgook joined Hopocan and made preparations to remove the body and care for the frail man who would need looking after.

* * *

The sun was dipping down in the horizon later as the group left the cabin.

Chingachgook and the other men had hastily constructed a wood casket for the deceased woman and placed her in it, in the woods and piled rocks on top. The women and Stephen crowded around the casket and prayed. Afterwards, Alice had written Priscilla Newsom's name neatly in the Bible, under her daughter's name.

They bundled Mr. Newsom and the young men hefted him and they all set out for the Stewart's.

Cora and Nathaniel walked close by each other, leaning against the other for support. Cora wrapped her blanket around her tightly as she shivered, her breath escaping her mouth in puffs of white.

"Nathaniel, what do we do now?" she asked tiredly.

"We wait until the spring and find a home. We still have to decide where… still don't like the thought of heading west?"

Cora gazed at him from under her lashes. "I cannot fathom the idea of living away from Alice. I know now that she seems to have reconciled with your brother…"

Nathaniel leaned forward and kissed her softly, then sighed. "They have a strong bond, wife. Having survived war, massacre, sickness… separation. They will be fine. I reckon we should think of ourselves. Of what life we will make, and children."

Cora blushed girlishly, recalling her wedding night. "Children… Nathaniel, I would be so happy with a child."

Her husband grinned. "I feel the same." His tone became serious.

"Cora," he said slowly, "living in this land has given you a fairly good idea of what life would be like. There is always the possibility of sickness or war. Life would not be easy. But I would do anything for you. I have ever since that night under the stars when we spoke of the Camerons."

Cora felt love and peace suffuse her. Her life had changed irrevocably, but she had found her match in every way in this strong, assertive American that was tender and patient with her.

"What are we to do this night, Nathaniel?"

"Head back to the Stewart's. Tomorrow we return to the camp as Tankawun's mother must be wild with worry. We need to discuss what to do with Mr. Newsom. Hopefully James will return this night."

Cora did not answer, and instead turned her eyes to the distance as the cold wind whipped her hair. For once she did not think of the future but of the present, and how precious and beautiful and uncertain life was.

* * *

All the medicines and things Tankawun did in this chapter are authentic Lenape healing rituals.

As always, please R&R and thank Departed. I hope you are all still with me. I will be changing perspectives a bit starting in 14, to give the story more depth. I love you all.

Oh and isn't Stephen Mason adorable? My beta calls him Huck Finn hehe…


	14. Chapter 14

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_ChapterFourteen_

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Annabel and James walked around the perimeter of the once frozen lake, hand in hand.

"What month is it, do you think?" asked James, breaking the silence.

Annabel paused and cast a look around her, thinking. Finally she replied,

"I would say the end of the March, my darling. Perhaps even April. I spotted a pair of geese yesterday as well as anthills, also the sap has begun to emerge."

James nodded pleasantly. "I haven't forgotten our discussion of growing wheat. It's a bit of a risky endeavor but I will discuss it with Nathaniel. He will help me clear the woodland a stretch."

"That would be lovely," replied Annabel, "but bear in mind he will most likely leave us with Cora very soon in search of land."

"I had forgotten," said James with a groan and a shake of his blonde head. "Although they have yet to decide in which direction they will head."

"Have they truly not decided on that?"

"No. Cora is proving to be just a mite problematic in that regard. In the end they will probably stay close to Uncas and Alice; and our intrepid Alice does not wish to head any further west, war or no war."

Annabel leaned in secretively. "Let us not forget that is where Chingachgook will strike out for, in the early summer. He will cross the Appalachians; and I have a sense that Alice does not wish to… let us say _inconvenience _the old man."

James snickered. "Ay, I don't think she is yet comfortable with him. What I heard in passing is that he had always been very stern with her and he practically ran her from that camp when she went to visit Uncas the previous year- poor, brave Alice!"

Annabel laughed musically as she recalled the pandemonium of that day. She became serious after a few moments.

"But Chingachgook has taken pains, I would say, to rectify this. Uncas is completely besotted with Alice and I am certain his father realizes it would not be prudent to appear less than fond of our girl."

James shrugged. "He is very polite with her. Remember the other day they went walking together and spoke quite a bit? Alice is a sweet lass and people are drawn to her, like bees to honey."

Annabel suddenly stopped and ran a thin, pale finger over the bark of one of the poplars that wreathed the lake. She glanced almost shyly at her husband, opened her mouth to speak then stopped with a shake of her head.

"What's this, bonnie wife?" James grinned crookedly. "Have you something to tell your poor husband? Out with it, girl."

Annabel looked down at her feet and shuffled around for a bit, mute.

James tilted his head speculatively. "I see…"

"You do?" Annabel looked up, startled.

"Ay, I do," he put on a wounded, doleful look. "You are abandoning me for Gregory Newsom."

Annabel thumped her husband on the arm, looking cross.

"It's true," continued James as he rubbed his arm. "The man has glass windows and those boring books you so like. Admit it."

"James Stewart! It is not gentlemanly behavior to speak so. The poor man has lost his wife only two months ago."

"…. and all that land and his mealy-mouthed prayers and manners."

Annabel shook her head, for the thousandth time wondering where James came up with these stupid jokes and notions.

"You mean to tell me…" asked James pleadingly, with his hands folded in supplication, "that you will_ not_ leave me alone to become that preacher's wife?"

His wife sighed and rolled her eyes. "No, James. If my saying so will make you feel more at ease, I will not leave you. Not ever, not even a single day."

"Hurrah!" called James buoyantly, then bent over in a fit of giggles. Annabel waited for him to finish.

James stood up straight, wiping his eyes. "I…. I make myself laugh. The very idea of you and him. He would bore you to death."

"If you are quite finished amusing yourself at my expense, there is in fact something I must tell you."

James looped a long arm around his wife's shoulder's bracingly then led her to a log.

"Sit," he commanded gently, "but not for long, eh? I hate sitting still as if I were in church." He sat expectantly, face lit with interest and traces of laughter.

Annabel put her palm over her husbands and seemed to looked inwards for the words.

"Where should I begin, darling…"

"At the beginning," replied James encouragingly, giving her a small kiss on her nose and smiling gently.

Annabel cleared her throat. "I went to visit Meg a few days ago, when you were out in the fields with Uncas and Nathaniel. I spent the morning with her."

James nodded but wondered what exactly was the point of her conversation. His thoughts began to stray. He liked Margaret Lancaster but much preferred rambling about with Robert and drinking spirits with him until they fell over. The last time Robert had come home drunk with no catch for the day, Meg had chased her husband around their farm with a broomstick then walloped him soundly.

James smiled in fond remembrance, recalling Robert's pleading and laughter.

"Are you listening to me?" demanded Annabel, crossing her arms on her chest, looking displeased."

"Of course my jewel, my treasure, my bonnie wife!" said James brightly. "You were saying that… er…. Something pertaining to Meg, and I think I heard something about Nathaniel."

Annabel's eyes narrowed, "You truly astound me, James. _Afterwards _I said I have been quite ill and that Meg was able to ascertain the source of my discomfort."

James looked concerned. He leaned forwards and embraced his wife tightly, scared.

"What is it, my love?" he asked. "Should I fetch Doctor Braddock again? Are you alright?"

"More than alright," replied Annabel in a muffled voice, wriggling free of James' tight embrace. "Better than ever before. James…"

She looked at her husband, her eyes shining.

"God has answered my nightly prayers. James, we are going to have a child."

James leaned back, dumbstruck. "A what?"

"A child, James! A child of our own. Due to be born in August, Meg believes."

"A child," said James softly. "A little baby."

Annabel nodded, her face splitting into the most blinding, radiant grin James had ever seen grace her face.

James shot to his feet with an ecstatic shout, throwing his hat into the air, something he only did when he was overcome with happiness. Annabel laughed and stood up as well, throwing her arms around her husband. He lifted her into the air and swung her around, planting kisses on her face.

James stopped and stood back from Annabel, searching her face and seemed beyond words. They gazed at each other for long moments before embracing, this time gently. James put a hand on the back of her head and sighed.

"Come," he murmured, "let us tell the girls."

Annabel nodded and smiled. Grabbing her hand, they ran up the dew-kissed path that led to their cabin, laughing as a flock of geese soared overhead and the wind whipped Annabel's hair around them.

* * *

"A baby!" screamed Cora with an animation and excitement that was quite unlike her.

Cora and her husband both grinned and Nathaniel began to wring James' hand and thumped him on the back in congratulations.

The Poes had been sitting in the wood table in the cabin deep in discussion when the Stewarts arrived. Annabel had sat calmly but smilingly and began to inquire politely over Chingachgook and the state of affairs in the camp, now that the Lenape were changing their hunting grounds again since spring had arrived. Nathaniel was in the midst of replying that the camp would relocate shortly much closer to the settlement when James had begun his shouting over the child.

"James…" Annabel groaned, blushing. He ignored his wife.

"Do you all hear? I'm going to be a father!" He darted excitedly around the room, pulling out his bottle of whiskey from its area of storage in a small trunk.

"This is only for special occasions," he enthused, cracking it open and taking a swig.

Annabel rolled her eyes. "Two days prior was not anything special You and Robert wandered about drunk and made a spectacle."

"Robert Lancaster fell into the river," Cora explained, giggling, to her husband. "And…. and then James thought it would be amusing to leave him there to swim for a spell."

Annabel shook her head in frustrated recollection. "The man's shouts brought me from the cabin and to the river. I declare the entire Valley must have heard his swearing. Meanwhile, my husband, proving the caliber of friend he is and his depth of camaraderie, was pelting him with acorns from the bank of the river."

"Ay," said James in fond remembrance. "I had to fish him out soaking like a trout and left him at his home."

Cora went to check the progress of their evening meal and stirred the stew before calling back to them. "I am beside myself with happiness, friends. A child is such a blessing, truly."

"I agree completely, Mrs. Poe," grinned James while passing the bottle to Nathaniel. "To think by late summer I will have a little prince or princess to accompany my little queen."

Annabel grinned happily.

"Cora, the stew you are preparing seems most inviting," murmured Annabel after a few moments and Nathaniel nodded agreeably.

James stood up and tossed the bottle carelessly into Alice's basket by the bed.

"James - That basket belongs to Alice. Kindly remove your bottle of spirits from it and store it properly, please." Annabel said this sternly but James merely shrugged.

"She won't mind."

"I mind," replied Annabel, frowning slightly.

Cora sat down and cut in suddenly. "Where has my sister gone, by chance? I have not seen neither hide nor hair of her for hours."

"She is with Uncas, Cora. She'll be alright," Nathaniel replied thus.

Cora fell silent, feeling uncomfortable. She had complete faith in Uncas but her thoughts were that it was not proper for the young couple to spend so much time together unsupervised.

"James and I will build a cradle for the child in the next few months," Nathaniel directed this to Annabel, "and anything else you reckon you need, don't hesitate to ask, Annabel."

Annabel smiled brightly, then her expression altered with confusion. "But I was under the assumption you would be leaving us soon to settle westward."

Nathaniel and Cora exchanged looks silently before Nathaniel replied to this.

"We've been thinkin' about this quite a bit. About what's important to us and what the future will bring. Cora and I have decided to stay in the east. We will search for land here and build our home. My sense of it is, Alice is spot on. War or no war, we want to stay together, I reckon."

James beamed at them exultantly and Annabel seemed overcome with joy.

"My friends," she murmured, "you have given me the best news I have received in a long time, other than the child. My husband and I greatly respected your prior thought to settle in the Ohio Valley and recognize the soundness of it, but life is never a promise and more care should be given to staying close to one's loved ones."

Everyone agreed to this statement and they were interrupted with a loud knock.

Cora believed it to be her sister and ran quickly to the door, opening it with alacrity.

"Oh! Stephen, my dear, I thought you were Alice. Please come in…" Cora felt slightly disappointed that the newcomer was not her mislaid younger sister.

Stephen Mason stepped in in his usual manner, eyes smiling, whistling and twirling his ragged old hat. He grinned at the everyone and made a small bow.

"Stephen, there's our man!" boomed James and invited the boy to sit.

"Of course, Mr. Stewart, but-"

"None of that. Mr. Stewart was my father. You know by now to call me James."

"Alright then. We are agreed. But where can I sit?"

Nathaniel and James stood and immediately began to search for something to substitute for a chair. Finally James grabbed Annabel's trunk and laid it upright, on its side, beside his wife's seat.

"You take the chair, lad, I sit here by my bonnie wife."

After everyone was settled, Annabel asked, "I trust you will stay for supper, my lad?"

Stephen nodded and smiled happily, smelling the sweet aroma of the beef stew. He looked around.

"Where's Alice? Uncas?"

"Out rambling throughout the Valley somewhere," replied James easily as the women set the bowls and tankards out and began to serve everyone. Also included was the bread Annabel had baked earlier. James took an enormous mouthful of the beef and potato stew and spoke noisily with his mouth open.

"Ah, to be young and in love."

Annabel looked ready to lecture him on his atrocious table manners but stopped, too content to nag her husband. Intertwining her fingers with his, they smiled at each other.

Nathaniel began to give a cursory explanation to the cabin dwellers that he had to help pack the camp and move with them back towards the Valley, a process that could take about a week.

Stephen's head shot up quickly as his thoughts drifted to the exquisite Delaware girl he had met months before.

"I reckon I can come along and help," he said in what he hoped was a blasé tone.

James threw his head back and roared with laughter, doubling over. The women seemed amused but strove to disguise it. Nathaniel appeared unfazed but perplexed.

"You do that, lad," declared James, heaving with his spent mirth. "Come back to us pierced with fifty arrows, enough to stock up our woodpile. Or better yet, cover yourself with tar and feathers like a chicken when you go… Well, since you are in such a haste to sacrifice yourself to them."

"J..James.." wheezed Annabel with suppressed laughter and Cora rocked in her seat, having erupted in chuckles at the mental imagery; a sacrificial chicken with flaming red hair on an altar.

Stephen snickered with them and shrugged, never one to take offense. The laughter died after a few minutes.

"Why?" spoke up Nathaniel, eyeing the young boy sharply. Stephen had been damn lucky the last time he had casually strode into the camp that the inhabitants did not react more agitatedly.

"No reason, Nathaniel. Just reckon I can help you lot."

"We have plenty of able-bodied men to do that."

"I know but I could… I don't know… carry things for you. It was only an idea."

Nathaniel did not look very convinced but let the matter rest; his father was right about Stephen Mason. He was an _extremely _odd boy but it could not be denied he had spirit.

* * *

Alice cooled her bare feet in the running water of the river, blushing as she felt Uncas watching her intently. Turning slightly to her left, she graced him with a hesitant smile.

"How is your father?" Alice asked, tucking a blonde strand of hair behind her ear.

"He is well," Uncas replied, still studying her. "Making preparations to move west soon."

"When?" asked Alice, shifting. She still felt slightly uncomfortable at the thought of the older Mohican patriarch. Perhaps he resented her and felt she had ensnared his son into staying in the east.

"Soon," was Uncas' solitary reply, clasping her hand tightly in his. Their lips met and Alice sighed inwardly at the pleasant, dizzying feel these intimate encounters brought. Leaning back Alice regarded Uncas breathlessly. His gaze was unflinching.

Ever since they had reconciled in the late winter, the young couple had striven to spend as much time as possible, but still within reason. Alice continued to work the farm alongside James, and Uncas spent much time with his father at the camp.

Uncas had his father's intense, unwavering gaze but infused with warmth. Alice found herself shy and nervous on many occasions when faced with his silent scrutiny. It was a sensation she had been entirely unfamiliar with prior to her arrival in the colonies. She felt her innards quaking and filling with liquid warmth at the merest brush of his hand, and all the thoughts would fly from her head.

She recalled with embarrassing clarity, a few days before, behind the Stewart's home, beside the cow pasture, when he had leaned down to kiss her with such an intensity and passion that she had felt her heart drum madly. She had not been able to recollect where she was or what was really happening; and most bizarre of all she had been unable to breathe. The only thing she could hear was her heart pounding in her head. After breaking their kiss, Uncas had rested his forehead against hers and his eyes burned with a question… Alice had been too rattled and discomposed to truly assess the situation then.

Alice remembered with mild disgust how Jeremy would slobber all over her face and how he would become quite angry when she voiced her displeasure. All in all, it had been the beginning of the end for she and Jeremy Forsythe. At this time, she had begun to understand that she would never find happiness with him.

"Are you alright?" Uncas asked, looking concerned.

"Yes," Alice blinked rapidly to dispel the unpleasant memories. "My thoughts took me to London momentarily. All is well, Uncas."

"What were you thinking?" Uncas persisted, plucking a small leaf from her hair.

Alice glanced at him quickly. Cora had mentioned to her that Nathaniel had told him about her broken engagement to Jeremy but Uncas seemed to respect her privacy and did not mention it. Alice briefly wondered if this was a trait wholly pertaining to the people of the colonies, red and white, as almost everyone she had met here was incredibly tight-lipped and discreet.

"Well…" Alice said hesitatingly, looking up at the sky that was white stretches of clouds against the bright blue of a spring day. "I was remembering something I wish I could forget."

Uncas ran a calloused thumb across her knuckles and did not say anything, but his dark, beautifully slanted eyes urged her to continue.

"Uncas. I know you know I was engaged to another man in London," Alice said this all very quickly, as if she were glad to voice it, "and I thank you for not questioning me or being fastidious."

Uncas sat back and eyed her thoughtfully. "Tell me about him."

Alice felt tense. She always did when the conversation strayed to the man in question.

"His name was Jeremy Forsythe. I knew him since childhood. We played in the garden as small children. In our adolescence he took a liking to me and Papa was pleased. As you ca already imagine he came from a great deal of money. I will not bore you with the social intricacies of the wealthy in London, but when talk of marriage came about I was quite young and had no qualms with my father arranging it."

Uncas nodded, expressionless.

Alice began to speak more animatedly. "He was not the man I thought he was. He made untoward advances and his language, I noticed, was very crude. One day…" Alice paused, as this was the difficult part.

"What happened?" asked Uncas, his eyes narrowing.

Alice cleared her throat.

"One day he followed me into the library at my family's home and behaved in a most unbecoming manner. He became angry when I refused him and expressed my disgust. Then a struck him."

Alice spread her hand out. "Like this."

She shook her head, remembering the shocked look on the face of her childhood friend.

Alice continued. "I must say you would not have recognized me, Uncas, if you had seen how enraged I became. I shouted at him that I was ending our engagement, that he was no longer welcome in my father's home, that… that I would rather have my name disgraced than to marry him."

Uncas took the words in and squeezed her hand, eyes searching her. "He didn't take it well?"

Alice allowed a chuckle to escape her at the understatement. "No, sufficed to say he did not. He began to say such cruel words to me, that his family had been in the right the entire time, that he could search much higher than the second daughter of a low-born Scotsman, a family of no importance. He said other things…he left," Alice finished dismally, picking up a pebble and throwing it in the river, watching it sink.

Alice tugged at the sleeve of the worn dress that all three women wore and looked around her. Her hands still ached from the burdensome task of doing the laundry for the cabin-dwellers, of nailing the continually broken fence into place. But she could not imagine reverting back to her old life.

Alice suddenly wrapped her arms around Uncas, sighing in bliss when he squeezed her tight.

"I am happy here, Uncas," Alice said against the dark blue of his calico shirt as he stroked her hair. "I would not trade life in the King's court or any court in Europe for the happiness I have found here… despite the loss of my father and old life."

Alice drew her bare feet out of the water and tucked them beneath her, and smiled at Uncas.

"I know that we will be happy together, especially when we have a home of our own with our friends and family nearby."

Alice leaned in to kiss him when Uncas suddenly shot to his feet and drew out his hatchet with amazing speed. His posture said he wished he had his rifle.

Alice rose quickly and registered with some surprise the sudden appearance of the wife of one of the farmers, the surname Clayton. Alice had only met the blonde, lanky woman once or twice in passing as they had visited the Stewarts from their farm upriver.

At present, the woman's face was frozen in absolute shock, her eyes darting between Uncas who stood motionless and Alice.

"Mrs. Clayton," greeted Alice, internally groaning, "I am quite pleased to see you again. I can only hazard a guess that you were visiting the Stewarts. I trust your husband and children are well?"

The other woman's mouth opened and closed like a fish out of water.

"Yes… well…" she managed. "Good day to you both."

She turned and strode quickly out of sight. _No doubt to spread the tale of the white girl she found in the arms of a red man in the woods… _Alice shook her head and gave Uncas a cautious glance.

Alice felt conflicting emotions at what had just occurred. On the one hand, she herself felt no shame at the decision to stay with Uncas and be his wife. But if she was truly honest with herself, she knew it would not be easy to turn a blind eye and deaf ear to what the settlers would have to say.

"Alright?" Uncas tucked his hatchet back into his side and watched her shrewdly.

"Yes," Alice replied, rubbing her hands nervously. "Let us return, Uncas. I have to prepare our supper."

They held hands on the walk back to the cabin, but Uncas felt a stiffness in her that had not been there before and wondered if she was trying not to pull her hand from his.

* * *

Tankawun sat silently in her family's wigwam, her nimble fingers tying feathers together to the end of a long birch branch to make a broomstick. Her mother had left her many chores for the day; besides the broomstick, she had to pound the corn in preparation of supper, peel some of the bark to fix the buckets they used, collect some more sap, scrape the hides smooth with bones and seashells, pound then roast the acorns to give to her grandmother….

And that was just to start.

With a frustrated sigh Tankawun tossed the unfinished broomstick and walked swiftly out of the wigwam, tossing the hide flap aside impatiently.

The air was crisp and cool and a little chilly, but it was a far cry from the ice and snow they had experienced in the cold season, and for this, Tankawun was happy. She heard a shrill female voice calling to her as she strode to the woods but ignored her. It was another one of her mother's nosey friends who was always gossiping about something.

Tankawun walked by the banks of the river for a long while. They had finally moved eastward a few days before and were much closer to the settlement. Tankawun was not frightened of the whites who inhabited these parts as they kept to themselves.

Plopping down on a dewy bank of the river that was placid instead of running, Tankawun took a moment to appraise her surroundings. The sun was not so high in the sky, meaning she had spent the entire day in her wigwam. She noticed ducklings and tree frogs and knew in a few short moons it would be the hot season again.

Tankawun gazed down at her reflection in the deep, still waters of the river, her mind churning in confusion.

Everyone had always told her she was beautiful…. It was not that she disagreed, but Tankawun did not pay this assessment too much attention. She studied her features and tilted her head to the side in frustration. It was no use. She searched for a vision of loveliness but all she saw was herself, pleasant features but she was too accustomed to her face that perhaps it passed her by.

Rocking slightly on her heels as she leaned back, Tankawun felt the familiar ache in her heart as she remembered Uncas.

The first time she had seen him, in her twelfth summer, Tankawun knew beyond a doubt that this was the boy she would marry. It was as if someone had lit a flame in her heart. Over time she thought the feeling had diminished but it had only lain dormant, rearing up again when she was reunited with Uncas this past summer, when he had arrived beaten, bloodied, but more handsome and strong than ever.

The thought continued to pain Tankawun, but she knew she had lost her opportunity due to the existence of the blonde Yengeese girl.

Tankawun easily admitted to herself that the white girl was incredibly lovely, her hair soft and moon-like. Her eyes were such a gorgeous and unusual color… the blue summer sky reflected on still waters. But more importantly, the moon-girl had a kind spirit.

And Uncas loved her. This became obvious to her when they had all met at the home of the dying Yengeese woman. Tankawun had pretended to sleep but had lain awake, watching them. She had not understood any phrase of the strange tongue the whites spoke but it was not necessary.

Uncas and the girl had sat so very, very close. The gentle look of tenderness on Uncas's face as he looked upon the girl would make anyone's heart ache, Tankawun had thought, and they spoke in whispers.. Then caresses, then…

Tankawun shifted by the river and sighed. It had not been easy to witness this. But she was resigned. Although she was curious…where would they live? Neither society would accept them, Tankawun knew this to be true. Perhaps they could build a cabin deep in the woods with no one to disturb them… Tankawun liked this idea. She would ask around to see what direction Uncas and the girl could find land that was not inhabited by too many whites or Indians-

The crack of a branch snapping drew her thoughts back to her and Tankawun scrambled to her feet.

She saw the outline of a white man with a musket at hand and fear shot through her. Taking a cautious step back, Tankawun regarded the young man wearily.

It was the red haired young man who had assisted them so much during the days of the fever. His name escaped her at the moment.

"Hello!" he called cheerfully, tipping his hat at her and grinning.

Tankawun felt her fear dissipate instantly and smiled readily back at him, as he took an unsure step forward.

He spoke some words to her, gesturing behind him. Tankawun understood very little of the Yengeese language, but heard the words "family" and "cabin"; apparently she had strayed out of the Delaware hunting grounds and wandered close to the settlement, near the boy's home.

He gestured for her to sit and Tankawun complied. The boy sat near her, setting his musket onto the mossy bank. She smiled widely at him and watched with unabashed interest as the young man's cheeks flamed the same color as his vivid hair.

They talked casually for a while, pantomiming a good deal and there was a lot of stick drawing on the muddy banks. She was able to learn that he lived with his mother and younger sister, that his father had passed, like her own.

"_Mocasinus." _Tankawun smiled playfully, nodding to his feet and the boy laughed.

He suddenly pulled out a wrapped paper package from his pocket and offered it to her, grinning. Tankawun took it curiously and unwrapped the paper, staring at the contents. She glanced at him, confused over the little chunks of… _what is it?_ she thought.

"_Keku hesh nen?" _she voiced the question in Lenape, forgetting the young man did not understand.

He broke off a tiny section and consumed it, then looked at her expectantly.

Tankawun felt a little trepidation but mimicked his action, carefully breaking off a piece and swallowing it. Her mouth filled with sweetness. It was a dried, candied fruit of some sort.

"You see, good!" the boy said, searching her face for approval. Tankawun understood only the last word.

"_Ahikta, nchu." _Tankawun agreed with his statement. "_Ahi shukelipukot." _

There was an awkward pause, and he asked her a question that she could not decipher. Tankawun shrugged helplessly.

Picking up the stick, he drew on the ground what appeared to be a sun with rays extending out, only it was upside down. He pointed to herself and him and the drawing.

Tankawun, for her part, was completely baffled. "_Keku nink lah kemikentam?" _she demanded, asking him what on earth he was doing.

But the boy was patient. He pointed to her. "Tankawun."

Then pointed at himself. "Stephen." She nodded slowly.

"Tomorrow." He annunciated this clearly. Tankawun racked her memory then recalled the definition, having heard this from Yengeese traders.

He pointed to the bank and smiled nervously and Tankawun finally understood; that he would like to see her again the next day, around the time that the sun set. Close to this time.

Many people, Tankawun reflected fleetingly, at least many Lenape would never think to do something like this, frightened as they were of the Yengeese and their cruelty.

Tankawun was not like these people. She was accustomed to doing whatever she felt like doing.

Tankawun nodded and stood, lightly shaking her doe-skin skirts she murmured words of farewell and tried to say the word back to him.

"To..Tomorrow." She winced in embarrassment but the boy beamed and stood as well, clutching his musket.

Tankawun turned and hurried past the embankment towards the hunting grounds, a faint smile on her face. Her annoyance earlier was gone and she was happy to have found a friend in the white boy.

* * *

A/N

I'm not too happy with this chapter, not sure why. Probably because I'm out of state, currently, and it's been hard to write with everything so hectic. Hmm....

Either way please R&R, I appreciate any opinion. Thank Departed for me, too. She is seriously the best beta-reader as well as sister.


	15. Chapter 15

ChapterFifteen

Cora and Alice stood outside under the glare of the sun, taking turns churning butter. It was tedious work as well as repetitive, and the girls had discovered early on in their stay with the Stewarts that the time flew by if they alternated churning the creamy substance.

Alice panted as she stepped back, surveying the barrel churn the Stewarts had recently acquired. As opposed to the previous instrument, which usually took around three hours to produce the butter, this one was infinitely speedier as well as easier.

"I was thinking, sister," said Alice enthusiastically as her sister began to swirl the smooth white substance, "that we should add flavor to our butter, like we do in England."

Cora blew a dark, curling strand of hair from her eyes, then shrugged.

"We already added a dash of salt, Alice."

"I know, Cora, but we should add a little bit of cinnamon or honey to add some more flavor."

"Honey?" asked the elder girl, frowning delicately.

Alice fought an eye-roll at her sister's politely incredulous expression, but decided to plead her case.

"Cora," she said patiently, wiping her hands on her blue dress. "Many families add flavors to their butter. Salting it is only the beginning. Salt is not as readily available as many flavors we have around us in abundance."

"Such as?"

Alice squinted up at the blinding, dazzling sunlight, then shielded her eyes with one hand, sighing at the glare.

"Well…" she said ponderously. "I have heard of people in certain parts of Europe using herbs and spices. Perhaps not _spices, _but we have plenty of herbs such as rosemary, thyme, basil…"

"Hmm… yes, I suppose." Cora nodded and her look was transformed from previously perplexed and amused to liveliness and willingly ready. "That does sound rather appealing. We could use both the salt as well as herbs in the butter when we have biscuits with our tea."

Alice was pleased with herself. "Indeed, sister, and the honeyed butter sounds tantalizing with the corn bread and pancakes. Do you not agree?"

Cora's smile was gentle and at the same time winsome/ "Certainly I agree with you, Alice. We shall start as soon as we can. Annabel and James can assist in procuring the necessary herbs, and we can ask Nathaniel for honey."

"Yes - but remember, it was my idea." Alice tossed her hair back and laughed teasingly.

"Your turn," Cora grumbled as Alice took her place at the barrel churn.

Cora winced as she rubbed her sore hands and wiped them on her skirts. Looking down at her dress, she suddenly recalled an earlier conversation with Nathaniel.

"Alice, I forgot completely!"

"What, sister?"

Cora's eyes sparkled. "Nathaniel and James were able to obtain quite an amount in shillings from trading upriver. They are going to town tomorrow -"

"Can I go, do you think?" asked Alice, her eyes wide. Cora shook her head.

"It is very doubtful, as it not a trip they are making for their own pleasure. Rather, now that the men have begun the building of our cabins, they will need to buy tableware and pots and such."

"Cora, that is wonderful news!" Alice beamed at her sister and wondered why Uncas would not be joining his brother, realizing belatedly that he would most likely cause speculation and suspicion among the general masses of white people.

"But that is not the best news he gave me… they are buying bolts of fabric to make us dresses!"

Alice gasped and covered her mouth, her joy so overpowering. "Cora, that is splendid! How many dresses will the seamstress make for ourselves and Annabel?"

Her older sister blinked at her then tossed her head back with a hearty laugh. "S…Seamstress?" She giggled. "As in a milliners shop? And how, pray tell, would they fit the dresses if we would not be present, Alice?" Cora shook her head, still smiling. "No, Alice, they will bring the bolts here and we ladies will measure the fabric to make the dresses."

Alice stood red-faced, conscious of the idiocy of her earlier words. Seamstress, indeed. She looked down and shuffled, reminding herself forcefully that she was no longer in London where the world of expensive dressmakers and hat makers had been at her feet.

Cora looked at Alice guiltily, noting her flushed face and silence.

"Alice, I was merely making sport. Annabel will cut and shape the fabric. We can sew. Once you have two or three pretty new frocks you will feel so much better."

"Fabric and cloth are expensive…" said Alice timidly, looking up at Cora.

"Yes, but do not fret on it overmuch. Uncas made his own profit from trading pelts and…" Cora looked at her sister furtively to make sure she was listening. "… and he gave a tidy amount to my husband, with instructions to buy bolts for you in particular as well as anything you desire for your cabin."

Alice blushed and sighed; she didn't know what to say. Uncas was so generous to her. He was never prone to speaking much but was attentive and obliging. There was an air of awkwardness to him whenever she thanked him for a gift or trinket, as if he truly regarded a show of gratitude and courtesy as needless or irrelevant.

"We will meet with the boys later in the day as they will need a compilation of necessities for our cabins," Cora continued as she moved to take her turn at the churn. "Cast iron pots, spoons, trenchers… Nathaniel says he and Uncas can make many things themselves. Besides the cabin, they will build the fences, tables, beds… I would never say this to Nathaniel, so as not to disparage of our life but…" Cora sighed heavily. "I so pray for a feather mattress."

Alice laughed and shook her head. Uncas had told her that his people used the softest of their animal hides when they slept and mentioned they would have plenty of those in their cabin but…. Alice silently agreed with her sister that a feather mattress would be heavenly.

Looking at the path, she straightened as she noticed two women ambling towards them.

It was Anne Clayton and Emma Fitzgerald, the latter of whom was married to an Irishman. The two older women stopped a short distance before the sisters and regarded them seriously.

Alice smiled easily at the welcome distraction. Perhaps she could ask the women for advice on what to have purchased for her soon to be built cabin.

"Good day to you, Mrs. Clayton and Mrs. Fitzgerald." Both of the sisters greeted the women with polite nods.

Her words of easy welcome were soon forgotten to Alice, however, as Mrs. Clayton nudged her friend and whispered loudly, "That's her. That's the one I was telling you of."

Alice was completely befuddled and self-conscious, eyeing the pair of women warily. Anne Clayton had apparently not tarried long in spreading the news of finding Alice in the woods with her Indian lover, embracing.

"Hello, ladies," she said weakly. "May I invite you both in for tea?"

The inhabitants drank tea very rarely as they did not have much of the minty tea leaves, but Alice was determined to explain to the women the truth regarding Uncas and hopefully clear any misguided misconceptions.

Emma regarded the younger women with such abhorrent scorn that Alice felt her innards shrivel.

"No thank you," replied Anne coldly. "We came in search of Mrs. Stewart."

Cora frowned at her sister's side, not liking the highhanded and rude tone from the woman.

"She is not at home," Alice replied softly. "But I entreat you both to-"

"Then we take our leave, miss." Emma's tone was shockingly rude and the pair turned on their heels and strode down the clearing quickly.

Alice could only stare. She had always gotten along well with Anne Clayton on the rare occasion they met. She had even consoled the crying woman once, as she was experiencing marital troubles; her husband was a drunken lout with a violent temper.

"Silly creatures," muttered Cora scathingly as she watched the women disappear from view. "Alice, do not welcome them into the cabin anymore. I did not care for their ill-mannered disposition one bit."

Cora returned to the process of producing butter, but she still simmered as she worked the wood handle. "If that drunkard of a husband beats her again she had better not appear here with her tears and her theatrics."

Alice scarcely heard her sister's tirade as she stood stock-still, in dismay over what had just occurred. Above all else came the nagging realization that this sort of behavior from her neighbors would not be uncommon. Alice knew she would have to become accustomed to it.

_Apparently from the exclusive drawing rooms in London to the untamed frontier, gossip will always be prevalent_, Alice thought gloomily.

Alice knew it would not be easy to bear the antipathy of some of her neighbors. She would not delude herself into thinking that it did not hurt her - for another woman to scorn her. But… perhaps this would be her cross to bear.

Her sister had always told her that love was enough to build a life with a spouse…. _What if it is not true? _Alice shook her head quickly but could not dispel the worry form her mind.

* * *

"Come, Lucy… be careful not to trip…" Stephen softly urged his little sister Lucinda, holding her tiny hand tightly in his as they walked towards the bank of the river.

The previous hour his ma had gone with Mr. Newsom to the Lancaster's for a few hours and had instructed him to watch his seven year old sister. Stephen had agreed but as soon as his mother had left with the older man, Stephen had hurriedly put Lucinda's shoes on her and wrapped a shawl around her.

"I want you to meet someone, Lucy!" he said and Lucinda had bounced on the chair excitedly. He was supposed to meet Tankawun by the river again and wanted Lucy to meet her. Then they were off.

"Can I wear your hat, Stephen?" Lucy asked happily, jumping over the upraised root of a tree and beaming at her brother.

"'Course you may," Stephen replied genially, whipping his father's old hat from his head and setting it on his sister's soft hair. Unlike Stephen with his red hair and freckles, Lucinda had their mother's dark, curling blonde hair and dark eyes.

They walked for a few more minutes, Stephen humming a children's song for his sister as she tried to sing along.

"Remember what I said, my Lucy, no word of this to our ma," Stephen reminded Lucy for the third time. Lucy nodded emphatically.

"I won't tell mama, Stephen," Lucinda replied, then screwed her face up in confusion. "But isn't that lying? Isn't it bad?"

Stephen sighed, feeling uncomfortable. "Lucy, lyin' to your ma and pa is bad. The Bible says so. But I reckon we aint _lyin', _because it's a secret. If it's a secret, mama won't ask. You see?"

He looked at her to see if she was following this train of thought. Lucinda thought hard and finally nodded, grinning impishly up at her brother. The hat slid over her eyes suddenly and Stephen chuckled, sliding it up again.

"What if mama asks me where you are going? What do I say, Stephen?" she gazed at her brother expectantly.

_Hmm… good question… _Stephen thought it through, then gave the only answer he could.

"If that's the case, Lucy, you tell the truth."

"Alright, Stephen."

They rounded a rock-studded bend by the running water and spotted the lone figure of Tankawun sitting on a large rock, preoccupied with something in her hands.

Stephen's heart sped up. "Tankawun!" he called, waving.

Tankawun squinted at him then her face broke into a smile. Standing she walked briskly towards Stephen, her face animated as she looked at Lucinda.

"_Awen hech nan?" _Tankawun crooned to the little girl, staring delightedly at her blonde hair. She had always admired the white women with their moon-like hair.

"This is my sister, Lucinda," Stephen said proudly, wrapping an arm around his sister. Tankawun crouched down to the little girl's eye level, murmuring words.

"You can call me Lucy," the little girl explained, then glanced quickly up at her brother.

"It's an Indian girl!"

"I know. This is Tankawun."

"Why are her legs bare? I can see her ankles and knees."

"Because it's warm out," Stephen chuckled, sharing a smile with Tankawun.

"Oh…" Lucy seemed satisfied with this simple answer. "Hello."

While Lucinda played by the river and threw pebbles into the water, Tankawun and Stephen sat on the large rock, conversing.

"It's good to see you again, Tankawun," Stephen said gently, staring at her lovely features. She blushed and nodded, picking up something she had dropped onto the rock when the whites had approached.

It was a necklace made of some white shell-beads, carefully strung and threaded. Tankawun offered it eagerly to Stephen.

"You made this for me?" he asked, astounded. Tankawun nodded.

"Wampum," she said simply, her light voice lovely and air-like to Stephen.

She instructed him with her hands to turn around and she fastened the necklace around his throat, her knuckles causing Stephen's blood to quicken.

"I have something for you as well!" he enthused, thrilled and nervous.

He pulled from one of his pockets a green ribbon that had belonged to Lucy, onto which Stephen had fastened a green and paste stone (it had fallen from his ma's brooch and he asked her for it) that Stephen thought would look pretty as a necklace.

Tankawun smiled happily, holding the decorated ribbon aloft.

"_Wanishi," _she murmured her thanks before she wrapped the ribbon around her wrist instead to be worn as a bracelet. Stephen tied the ends swiftly. The stone was not of any real value. It was no emerald or diamond but nonetheless twinkled under the sunlight. Tankawun inspected her newest adornment with delight.

Awhile later, the young pair still sat on the rock, basking under the sunlight, but Lucy had wriggled between them.

Tankawun pulled the giggling girl onto her lap and placed Stephen's hat back onto his head. She began to gently twist the girl's hair into two soft braids that hung loosely down to about mid-chest.

The Lenape girl hummed as she admired her handiwork, her gaze gentle, and Stephen could not take his eyes off her. He had been in slight awe of her since they had first met months before in the Delaware camp.

They weren't that far apart in age, Stephen reflected, watching as Lucy giggled and tried to braid Tankawun's hair. He had just turned 15 and knew she was around 16 or 17; he had casually wormed the information from Uncas as Nathaniel would have become immediately suspicious and would have nagged him.

Her allowed himself to fanaticize of a perfect world in which he could… he wasn't too sure…. He knew he wanted to be the only one to bring a dimpled smile to her face, to shower her with gifts he would make her; he wanted to be the one to braid her hair and sing her songs and live in the haze of her scent. She smelled of the woods and the breeze of the Valley, of herbs and lilies and lavender.

But more than anything, he didn't want these gentle, sunlit days to end.

He suddenly realized Tankawun was staring at him oddly, an inquiring expression on her face. He must have been staring at her, lost to his thoughts. Stephen swallowed and smiled, looking at the rushing water.

"The shad are running, Tankawun…" he murmured, pointing at the small fish that swam briskly just beneath the surface.

Tankawun nodded and the three sat still for several minutes. Even Lucy seemed unusually quiet as she became immersed in the moment.

The elder girl murmured that she had to return home. By now Stephen understood the words. He gave a small sigh, and none seemed inclined to want to move from their peaceful solitude.

All of them stood up collectively and Stephen scanned her face, watching as she pushed a stray strand of black hair away from her eyes.

"Two days?" Stephen annunciated slowly, now that the girl was rapidly picking up short phrases in English. "This time?"

Tankawun nodded softly, hugged the little girl and they all bid each other farewell.

Lucinda and Stephen watched the small of Tankawun's back disappear back into the woods, Stephen squinting after her long after she had vanished. His stomach seemed to ache whenever she left.

"Lucy, the Delaware speak a different language but the meaning of their names are very nice," he spoke quietly to his sister on their trek back to their farm, clasping their hands together.

He continued, "Do you know what Tankawun's name means?"

"What, Stephen?"

"Small Cloud…" he replied. "Pretty name, eh?"

Lucy nodded and said with child-like interest, "She is so pretty, Stephen."

"I know, my Lucy." Stephen grinned. "That should be her name. Pretty flower. Prettiest flower of the Valley."

He suddenly adapted a stern look. "Remember, Lucy, not one word to mama. Unless she asks."

"I know. I remember. Am I as pretty as your friend?"

"You are the most beautiful flower in the world."

* * *

Hopocan squatted in the middle of the camp beside his friend Chingachgook, both partaking of the venison stew his wife had prepared for the men.

Glancing around the camp, Hopocan idly noticed the young women hard at work at their chores, children playing by their mothers, young men standing around sharpening arrows and other weapons intended for the bear hunt the following day.

"Chingachgook, friend, this hot season will be a full year you have stayed with us," Hopocan said this in Lenape. Chingachgook nodded, swallowing a mouthful of the stew.

"Your eldest son has a wife. Uncas is as good as married now. Tell me, will you not consider making the camp your permanent home?"

Chingachgook glanced at his friend and considered this.

"I had given it some thought," he replied, then paused. "What is your opinion, friend?"

Hopocan was ready with his answer. Shifting, his words came our slowly and meaningfully.

"You have dedicated your life to raising the boys. They are men now, and each has chosen a woman and their own path. Children only belong to us for a short time. We all know this. That part of your life is over, as is mine. Well, besides Anicus, of course. I have no notion when he will leave my wigwam but I pray soon as I am beginning to tire of his chatter."

Both men chuckled, eyeing the boy in question across the camp who smiled awkwardly at them.

"Let him find a wife soon so he can talk her to death. Let it be her turn," Hopocan muttered, but his gaze was fond.

"As I was saying, friend," Hopocan picked up the thread of the earlier conversation. "With both of the young men gone I think it best if you stay with us. From what that shameless gossip Wagion has told me, both your sons wish to stay in this general vicinity. Our camp will always be nearby. It makes sense. I know they want to stay close to you."

Chingachgook nodded slowly, pondering his friend's words and recognizing the wisdom in them.

"How is the white girl? What was her name again?" Hopocan asked suddenly.

"Alice," Chingachgook said, shrugging. "She is well. I have heard they spend a great deal of time together. Half the time that I go visit my sons at that Yengeese farm, they are off in the woods, alone."

That was quite a mouthful for the Mohican man to say, Hopocan thought, intrigued.

"You do not approve?" asked Hopocan airily. The Mohican looked at him dryly.

"Actions have consequences. He had better have a cabin built for the girl, and soon. I will not tolerate him disrespecting the home of those Yengeese. As of now, the girl is under their care. Not his."

Hopocan withdrew his clay pipe from the folds of his buck-skin pants. The men were silent several moments as they lit the pipe from the embers of the cooking fire. Hopocan offered it to Chingachgook, who started to puff at it.

Hopocan leaned back and regarded his friend, feeling entertained.

"Chingachgook, my friend. You act as if this sort of behavior were uncommon. Look at Wagion over there-" He pointed slyly to the young man. "He thinks himself so clever, but do you know who he has been secretly seeing?"

"Tell me, Hopocan," Chingachgook was clearly humoring his friend as he really did not care. "Who has Wagion been meeting?"

"Her." Hopocan pointed a finger towards a group of women.

Chingachgook cocked his head to the side. "That large, unsmiling girl who is always beating him somehow?"

Hopocan nodded happily. "Yes. Her. I will wager not even your sons know that."

The Lenape man took a turn at the pipe. "It amuses me," he sighed.

His eyes darted quickly to the left and his gaze narrowed. Chingachgook turned to see Tankawun hurrying up the path leading to the camp from the forest.

"Tankawun has still been acting strange…" Hopocan muttered.

Chingachgook took the pipe gingerly and nodded his agreement. "I noticed."

Hopocan's face was wily. "Chemames has been running that bothersome mouth of hers… as usual… complaining to the world how Tankawun does not finish her chores properly, how she is always distracted and runs this way and that way, staying in the woods all day."

"You may as well know," Hopocan said seriously. "Chemames blames Uncas, telling everyone that your son broke her daughter's heart. Most of the people do not take her chatter too very seriously."

Chingachgook shrugged, then allowed, "It was unfortunate that Tankawun was hurt in this entire ordeal, but Uncas chose the Yengeese girl. It cannot be helped."

"I imagine you know her much better now."

"I do," the Mohican conceded.

"What are your thoughts?"

Chingachgook turned the clay pipe over in his weathered hands. "I cannot deny the strong bond between my son and her. But she seems intimidated by me."

Hopocan shrugged. "It is not unusual, considering what transpired when she was at the camp."

Tankawun suddenly drew nearer, her gaze slack and unfocused; such that she did not notice her mother almost stomping up to her.

"Tankawun! Where have you been?" the woman cried angrily in Delaware, glaring at her daughter in disapproval.

"I…in the forest, mother." Tankawun's reply was soft.

Her mother rolled her eyes. "Well, that goes without saying, child! The forest! I suppose you fancy yourself a warrior now. Will you wrestle the bears and bring them to feed the camp?"

"No…"

"Tankawun, you did not finish your chores," the older woman nagged her daughter shrilly. "From now on you stay in the camp and cease acting like a lazy vagrant. Do you understand?"

Tankawun did not seem to hear. She ran her hands along her skirts and stared at the ground.

Chemames' eyes narrowed. "I _said_, do you understand? Come down from whatever cloud you are on, child!"

"Yes, yes- Understood, mother."

"Good." Her mother nodded shortly and stalked away.

Hopocan and Chingachgook continued to curiously observe the young girl, and Chingachgook noticed the jeweled ribbon wrapped around the girl's wrist. It was certainly not of Indian making. It was a Yengeese adornment. The white girls used those frivolous ribbons in their hair.

The friends watched as Tankawun ran her fingers through her bracelet gently as she hurried towards her family's wigwam.

Chingachgook glanced at Hopocan, who was also beginning to understand, from the astute gleam in his eyes. But out of mutual fondness for the young girl, both kept their silence, lest some malicious tongue happened to hear their revelation.

"Mannitto help this camp," Hopocan muttered. "An entire generation of young people running wild."

* * *

The inhabitants of the Stewart farm sat outside with Uncas and Nathaniel, watching a flickering bonfire silently. They had all just enjoyed a large supper of deer meat that the brothers had provided, as well as a stew prepared by Alice of potato and beans. Annabel had added sweet potato to their fare.

Cora smiled at her husband, the firelight dancing in her eyes.

"In England only the nobility are able to consume deer, Nathaniel, as only the aristocracy are allowed to hunt them."

The men laughed at this notion then launched into a discussion of the notches that needed to be trimmed into the logs to build sturdy cabins. Alice was not too very interested in this conversation as she sat quietly next to Uncas.

"Tell me of the dance," she asked Uncas suddenly.

"What dance?"

"The one the Lenape performed the other night. You did not mention it again. With the doll."

"The doll dance?" Uncas asked and Alice nodded, peering up at him.

Uncas shrugged. What was considered mundane to some was seen as exciting to others.

"It is a traditional dance the Delaware have done for a long time. We do not keep a written record so I do not know how long. But we dance it in honor of an old story."

Alice sat up eagerly. "Tell me the story, please!"

Nathaniel smirked. "Tell the girls the story, Uncas." The females all voiced their desire to hear it; Alice most of all.

Uncas stared at her; he had never been skilled as a story-teller. But she pleaded with him until he consented, and thus he began to narrate the yarn somewhat haltingly.

"Long ago… by the banks of the Mohican River which today is known as the Hudson River, a group of Delaware children came upon dolls on the ground that had blank faces."

Alice nodded, leaning against Annabel who was to the other side of her. Uncas continued, trying to remember exactly how the story went.

"So the children carved faces onto the dolls and the dolls came to life and danced with them. The parents of the children came upon them and threw the dolls away and the children went home."

Uncas paused awkwardly and glanced at Alice, who smiled at him encouragingly. "Go on. What happened with the children?"

"One of the children, a little girl, badly wanted her doll back and kept dreaming about it. When she told her parents, they regretted throwing it away. One night, in a dream, the doll came to the little girl and told her she must find the doll and keep it, and every year dance in the doll's honor. If this was done the Delaware would always prosper and be happy."

"And the parents found the doll?" asked Alice.

Uncas chuckled at her eagerness. "Yes, Alice. They found the doll and threw a feast for it, a tradition that continues to this day when we hold the doll dance. The Delaware grew in numbers and several different tribes were established, including the Mohicans. Our people continued to prosper, until-"

_Until the whites came to our shores, _he thought rather bleakly, but he would never voice this aloud to Alice, his soon-to-be wife…who, after all, was white.

"Do you decorate the doll?" asked Annabel, smiling happily at the story's conclusion.

"Yes, we set the doll on a stick in the middle of the longhouse and paint her face and decorate it. Everyone takes a turn speaking to it. The Delaware have many dances throughout the year; dances in honor of the hunt, of seasons. They have a bear dance as well."

James and Nathaniel snickered sufficiently enough at the end of the story to cause a helpless grin to creep onto Uncas' face, but the women thanked their story-teller profusely.

Annabel rubbed her swelling belly and spoke up. "I liked your story quite a bit, Uncas. My favorite part was when the girl-"

"I'm bored," James interrupted loudly, scratching his chin and looking around. "I have such a hankering for something sweet."

Annabel narrowed her eyes, irritated at his words coupled with the fact that he had rudely interposed when she had been speaking.

"There is never enough to amuse you James Stewart, and we have no sweets."

James fidgeted as he tried not to glance at Alice; he knew she had brought some treats from the Lancaster's, courtesy of Meg.

"Does anybody have anything sweet at all? Hmm? Perhaps the lasses?" he asked plaintively, turning his face towards the blonde girl.

Alice smiled amiably, recalling the fruit confection Meg had made in excess and gifted to her.

"Margaret Lancaster gave me fruit pastes…"

"What flavor?" asked James avidly.

"I have not tried it as of yet. I am assuming either apricot or peach. Perhaps gooseberry," Alice rose, smoothing her skirts. "I will fetch them."

Walking into the shadowed cabin, Alice rubbed her arms briskly at the slightly tepid temperature indoors and rummaged around every nook and cranny, having forgotten where she had placed the sweets.

Finally after several minutes she found the tin box stuffed with the paste sitting neatly on the wooden table- of all places!- and she walked swiftly out into the night, sweets in hand.

James' loud voice halted her in her steps-

"-So I said to that bloody imbecile Clayton and his meddlesome wife, I told them not to show up anymore at my farm, that they are no longer welcome here for their bad manners concerning our Alice. Same goes for that dunderhead Emma Fitzgerald who is married to the Irishman. Who the bloody hell is she to criticize Alice? She-"

Annabel noticed Alice standing there mute, looking horrified and embarrassed and Annabel tried to cut her husband off urgently, "James, darling, moderate your language, there are ladies present-"

James did not hear his wife's supplication, indeed he did not even pause his rant. "Let us not forget Anne who married that drunkard… well, that is not so bad except everyone knows how he beats her and the little ones!"

"James…" said Cora weakly, looking from her sister's ashen face to Mr. Stewart.

"Fear not, Cora," James put in blithely. "Robert and I will be here to settle scores if any of those silly women insult your sister again or mention Uncas. Their own husbands will have to answer to me."

Nathaniel looked at Alice, who appeared frozen in place and he rose, worried.

Alice came out of her spell and hurried quickly to the group, a wan smile on her face. She had not wanted Uncas to know of her recent troubles with the neighbors, but apparently Cora had told Annabel who then, in turn, mentioned it to her husband and James was now making sure everyone in the Valley became aware of it.

Uncas eyed Alice sharply as she sat. Alice concentrated on the tin box before stretching out a hand, offering the sweets to James.

"Thank you, lass," James grinned while he passed the box around to everyone, not noticing the sudden pervasive silence.

Uncas looked at Alice, expressionless. He had not been aware of the situation involving the neighbors and wasn't sure how he felt. The English were so damn particular about their "reputation" and what others had to say… Uncas knew it would cause Alice discomfort and she looked very upset at the moment.

Alice felt, in a word, _cornered. _James had always been monumentally oblivious and now was no different, but the rest were tense and quiet, avoiding eye contact. It had been several days since seeing Anne and Emma but the gossip had started reaching the Stewart farm in whispers. Apparently James had finally had enough. It was all so tedious and frustrating.

Not all the neighbors behaved in this ill-becoming manner, however. The Lancasters treated Alice the same as they had ever, although she knew Meg was confounded; Robert did not care too much.

Elizabeth Mason had commented gently that people found any reason to spread gossip, that Stephen told her what a fine young man Uncas was and instructed Alice not to take any cruel barbs spoken by their neighbors to heart. Mr. Newsom had agreed in his quiet manner. Ever since the death of his wife, the mild-mannered man had spent quite a good deal of time with Mrs. Mason.

"Take no heed of those wagging tongues, my dear girl," Gregory Newsom had counseled gently, sipping the aromatic tea that Alice had made him on a visit to the Mason's. "God has a plan for us all. Many do not see it that way. Uncas is a fine man."

"Uncas, let us walk," Alice said abruptly, feeling slightly claustrophobic at the moment even outdoors and wanting a moment alone with Uncas.

Uncas nodded and stood, holding a dark hand out to her. Alice murmured to the others that she would return shortly and grasped Uncas' hand tightly as they began to walk into the deep woodland. Night was fast approaching.

"Going for a _walk," _James said with sarcasm, shaking his head and smiling.

"Do not insinuate anything, James Stewart," Annabel reprimanded her husband. "Alice is free to walk with Uncas whenever she pleases and they are doing just that. Walking. Nothing more."

"We'll see," James mumbled and Annabel's eyes flashed in his direction. James was pleased. He secretly enjoyed riling up his wife.

* * *

Chap 15 & 16 were sitting in my laptop for weeks and something about 15 bugged me…. I kept reworking and re-writing it until finally this weekend I scrapped the entire chapter and re-wrote everything.

I'm fully conscious this is not my best work but I already feel an improvement in 16, from what I've written. Please R&R and thank Departed.

Oh, and the Delaware legend is authentic, I altered it slightly because I didn't feel comfortable putting it down exactly as I found it; even though there shouldn't be a copyright issue as I willingly admit it's not mine. Found it in some obscure text from 1909. Thank you all for reading this!


	16. Chapter 16

_ChapterSixteen_

* * *

Elizabeth Mason wiped her hands on her skirts as she stepped back from stirring the pot in the hearth, which contained the evening meal; chicken and potato stew.

Stepping up to her table, she smiled gently at Gregory Newsom.

"I hope you will enjoy tonight's supper," she commented as she sat down, resting her chin on her palm.

"Indeed, I am quite certain I shall, madam." Gregory spoke in his calm, measured manner and with a fond glint in his tired eyes.

"My departed wife was not entirely capable in the kitchen," he added, bobbing his head. "It fell onto myself to put together a meal the majority of the time. When dear Alice was employed by Mrs. Newsom for a short spell, I experienced some respite."

"Dear girl," responded Elizabeth softly. "She was such a help to you and I know the Stewarts depend on her greatly. Such sweetness she has."

Elizabeth looked up suddenly, her voice cautious.

"Gregory… we have been acquaintances for quite a few years now and there is something I have been meaning to ask you. In privacy of course. Just a curiosity of mine."

"Of course, Elizabeth," Mr. Newsome responded gallantly. "Feel free to ask me anything you wish."

"It is just that - the late Mrs. Newsom and yourself had such fundamental differences in character. I have always wondered… why did you marry her?"

Mr. Newsom gave a low chuckle. "Many have asked me that, Elizabeth. It is not a simple tale, by any means."

Elizabeth Mason bade him continue, wanting to have knowledge of a question that had long tugged at her curiosity.

"To begin, Priscilla and I had much more in common that one may think. We were both once possessed of a great fortune and found ourselves, in our youth, deprived of our means. It was the same root, as well; debt. My father landed in a debtors prison while I was in Oxford. He had borrowed heavily to invest in a mining venture in the north of England and the entire thing turned out to be a sham. As he was a share-holder in this, he was still responsible for the fortune that was never produced."

Elizabeth was amazed, as she was a housewife and had no experience with this sort of talk.

"What happened?" she asked, sympathetic.

"There were four of them in this venture. One took a pistol to himself in front of his family when he realized he had been ruined. The other left the country. The third man, I am not too very sure of the details, or what happened to him. But my father landed in prison, where he died, leaving my family with no resources."

"Oh, Gregory, I am so sorry to have dredged up these memories," Elizabeth whispered.

Mr. Newsom smiled grimly, waving a hand aside.

"No matter, Elizabeth. I believe that the Lord puts these trials in our lives that serve a purpose that is greater than ourselves. When I was a young man I had wanted to join the church, but as Father would not have it, I was sent to school. When he died, well…" he trailed off.

"You mentioned before to me that you came from England with your mother?" Elizabeth asked.

The man nodded. "Yes indeed, I did. We only managed to sneak some bit of silver and Mother's jewels into the false bottom of an old trunk we had when we heard the debt collector's were on their way to our home to claim every single thing we owned. With that, we managed to barter two passages to the colonies. I was twenty one years old."

Gregory Newsom took an elegant sip of the hard cider Elizabeth provided and the woman reflected that despite the decades of hard work he had endured in the Americas, there still lay in his demeanor vestiges of gentlemanly breeding and old world aristocracy.

"We landed in New England, in Massachusetts Bay." Mr. Newsom's eyes were glazed and distant as he remembered those long ago days. "I did what I could to provide for Mother, took on any menial occupation, but I believe the shock of losing our fortune and good name broke my mother's heart and contributed to her early death. She was not yet forty years of age when she left me."

Elizabeth, before she could stop herself, quickly reached over the table and grasped Gregory's hand in hers. He ran his thumb lightly over her knuckles.

"My dear lady," he sighed. "We are born to suffer and endure, by the grace of God."

"You met Priscilla at this time?" Elizabeth asked, blushing at his touch and trying to sound nonchalant.

"Mmm." He nodded. "When I first encountered her she was living in genteel poverty, her family having lost their own fortune. She was but a young girl at that time. Around sixteen I think."

Elizabeth poured him more of the watery drink, which he received with politeness and decorousness.

"Do you know, Elizabeth, that in our youth, my wife and I truly loved one another," he said softly. "We were young and hopeful. I thought her so very lovely with her auburn hair and strong spirit. She… she was not always as you all knew her. The death of our only child broke her. I bore it all for all these years first and foremost because I had made a vow before God's eyes. For better or for worse, I had pledged. And I never stopped viewing her with my youthful eyes, saw her as she once was, young and beautiful and always laughing. Even after the love we once shared had ended in this desolate land."

Elizabeth Mason swallowed thickly, moved by the sweet sorrow in the man's voice. She also knew what loss was like, having suffered agonizingly, every day, after losing her husband three years before.

This was what had drawn her to Gregory Newsom. He was such a gentle man and the best companion she could have hoped for.

"Dear Elizabeth," he murmured as they again held hands. "My dear, sweet lady."

They locked eyes then and held it. Elizabeth felt such peace descend upon her… until the door crashed open and Elizabeth winced at the noise and withdrew her hand quickly.

"Stephen, my darling.." she said, hurriedly standing. "Supper is ready-"

Her son did not hear her. Whistling, he tipped his hat to Mr. Newsom and his mother before running to rummage through his knapsack that hung on a peg on the wall.

"Ma, where is that bone whistle I made a few days ago?" he asked, turning and looking around fretfully.

Elizabeth answered that she did not know. "Do you have such a need for it, my boy?"

"Yes," he moaned. "It's a gift. Well, I will be back before dark."

With that said, he strode quickly out of the door, cramming his father's old hat on his red hair and picking up his finicky musket.

The door slammed, leaving his mother and Mr. Newsom in solitude as well as perplexity.

Elizabeth shook her head in wonderment. "Lucy! Supper is ready, my dear."

The little girl had been playing just outside the cabin and, upon hearing her mother calling, heaved the door open and ran inside with a skip in her step.

They were all settled down with the stew in front of them, chatting casually, but worry for her son was nagging at Elizabeth. She ran a slender finger around the rim of her tankard as she recalled how her son did nothing but wander outdoors for the majority of the day.

He was following in the footsteps of James and Robert… they were fine men, to be sure. She just thought Stephen was too young to be so alone outside in the wilderness. Her son had always been too curious and perverse for his own good; she still recalled the absolute shock that had coursed through her when it became known that he had wandered on foot into the Lenape camp in the west.

"Lucinda," Elizabeth asked suddenly, "where is your brother going near everyday?"

Lucy froze and stared into her mother's face silently. She appeared to be struggling internally.

"I…I…"

Elizabeth was alarmed. "What is it, my child? Do you know? You must tell your mama if Stephen is doing something he should not be."

Lucy looked down at the table. "It's nothing bad, Mama. Stephen said not to say anything unless you asked, and you have asked, and so he said I can tell you because the Bible says lying is wrong."

Gregory Newsom looked concerned at the barely intelligible mumbling the girl had blurted out.

"Where is he going, Lucy?" the man asked gently.

Lucinda looked up and replied to this. "To see her, his lady love."

Elizabeth sat back, the air returning to her at these harmless words.

"Why, Lucy… is that it?" She laughed. "Why, I almost thought the worst! Now then, tell your mama who this girl is. Tell me before I burst."

Lucy ran to mother and eagerly stepped up on her tiptoes to whisper into Elizabeth's ear.

Gregory watched as the woman's face paled. For several minutes, after Lucy had assumed her previous position and was noisily drinking her stew, Elizabeth was silent.

"Are you both finished with your supper?" she asked.

Gregory nodded, watching her carefully. Lucinda grinned at her mother and wiped her mouth with her sleeve.

"Good," Elizabeth rose. "Then come along. We are going somewhere."

"Where, Elizabeth? What has occurred?" inquired Mr. Newsom, also standing.

"To the Stewarts. I need to have a word with Nathaniel and his brother. Lucy… you must tell me absolutely everything about your foolish brother and that girl."

Gregory and Elizabeth each grabbed one of Lucy's hands and they set out quickly.

* * *

Nathaniel and Uncas were chopping wood outside the Stewart farm, shirtless in the pervasive heat, when Elizabeth Mason came down the trail accompanied by Mr. Newsom and Lucinda.

Nathaniel stood up straighter, wiping his brow wearily. At viewing Mrs. Mason's worried face, he exchanged glances with his brother.

"Mr. Newsom, glad to see you." Nathaniel greeted the older man. Uncas nodded silently to the trio.

"Mrs. Mason, hope everything is going well at your farm," Nathaniel added.

"Yes, the crops are growing…" The woman seemed distracted. "This is my youngest, Lucinda."

"Lucy!" the girl said brightly to the men, swinging the hand that her mother held very energetically.

"Lucy, be a dear and go inside with the women. The adults need to speak." Elizabeth nudged her daughter gently in the direction of the cabin.

James strode up to them, saying loud words of greeting.

"Helping on my farm today, we alternate, see? Tomorrow we travel up a stretch to work on Uncas' cabin, and Nathaniel's. The lasses will have their own homes soon." James gave them all a cheerful half-grin.

"I am glad to hear this," replied Gregory Newsom with a kindly expression. "I reiterate what I told you gentlemen earlier. I am at your disposal and you may use any tools and equipment from my farm."

"Thank you." Uncas nodded, then glanced at Elizabeth. "Everything alright?"

The men's gazes turned and focused on the woman as she shook her head, mute.

Gregory decided to step in, even though he was not entirely sure it was his place.

"We are concerned about Stephen. His younger sister confessed something quite extraordinary to us and we came to see if you could assist us."

Nathaniel stood up straighter, and James let out a low chuckle.

"What has that rascal gone off and done, Mrs. Mason?" asked James, grinning.

"I'm sure you have noticed that Stephen has been acting odd lately. He has always had a wandering spirit but it become extreme to the point that I was so worried! He never comes home until right before dark and I felt… I felt he was sneaking about quite a bit."

"Boys often behave like this. Their attention is drawn to the wilderness," Nathaniel reminded the woman gently.

"That was what I had thought, until I spoke to my daughter," Elizabeth replied with a woe-be-gone expression. "She told me that there is a young lady involved."

Out of politeness the men kept their silence, but from the skeptical expressions drawn on their faces it was obvious they did not find the news worrisome.

"He has began secretly seeing a young girl… of your own race, Uncas," Elizabeth finished on a lamented note.

The three young men fell into a stunned silence.

"A Lenape girl?" asked Uncas carefully, needing clarification. "From the Delaware camp?"

"The same, Uncas. I came in part to ask you if you have any additional knowledge and also to beg for your assistance. I have nothing against your people, you know that. It is that I fear any consequences, any repercussions against my son - Stupid, thoughtless boy!" she moaned, closing her eyes.

"Elizabeth, calm yourself, my dear," Gregory said soothingly. "Gentlemen, have you heard of this?"

"No," replied Nathaniel, finding his voice. "For my part and my brother, we haven't."

"Neither have I," shrugged James, scratching his sun-bleached hair.

Uncas felt a flash of foreboding as well as intuition. He had an inkling of who this unnamed girl was. Sweeping his eyes carefully to his brother, Uncas asked if they had any notion of the Lenape girl's identity.

"We do not, I am afraid," Gregory confirmed, squinting up at the blinding sun.

Carefully removing his gold pocket watch from his trousers, Gregory Newsom saw that it would still be some time before nightfall. For Elizabeth's sake, he wanted to have this all sorted out today.

"Did Lucy describe the girl?" Nathaniel asked firmly. Truthfully, he was growing weary of all the disturbances and difficulties that had been coming their way in the last year. It did not bode well. _If it aint one thing, it's another. _

Elizabeth's face revealed the timorous anguish she was in. "My daughter described her as…" she took a quaking breath, "as being young, perhaps 17? She is very pretty. Lucy is quite attached to her. The only thing I know is that Stephen and the young lady have been meeting in secret near everyday for quite some time. They meet by the river or in the woodland."

She jerked her head up to gaze pleadingly at Nathaniel and Uncas. "Boys, this cannot continue! Stephen does not know what he is doing. I am at my wit's end in fear for my son's safety. What if the girl's people find them together and… and…."

"Elizabeth, please compose yourself, my dear," Gregory said bracingly. "The good Lord will not allow anything to happen to Stephen. He has done nothing wrong but strike up an unusual familiarity with one not of his race."

Gregory swept his eyes resolutely around him, saying unwaveringly. "God loves all his creatures. We were all fashioned in his likeness. We must not forget this. I believe we must first speak to your son, Elizabeth."

After a few more words spoken to the young men, Elizabeth called her daughter and the trio departed back to the Mason homestead.

James watched them leave, a wry smile on his face. "Poor lad, that Stephen. I hold Mrs. Mason dear to me but I don't think it right that she fuss over the lad to that extent. What does it matter if he is romancing one of the Indian girls?"

"It matters, James, because the Delaware won't take too kindly to one of their own females running about with a Yengeese," Nathaniel replied.

"And what of this mysterious, beautiful maiden?" James argued, looking perturbed. "Does she have no say in the matter? Why is so much importance put on race and social class, and why do the females have no say?"

James shook his head and picked up his ax to split some more wood for the fire.

Nathaniel looked broodingly at the blonde man; he agreed with his friend, but James Stewart simply did not understand the Delaware mentality.

"The girl aint no mystery, James. I reckon I know who she is." Nathaniel spared a glance at his brother, who looked bemused. He knew Uncas had reasoned it out for himself.

* * *

Alice squinted at the faint orange glow that permeated through the wax covered windows at the Stewart's. She had been consumed with knitting blankets and sewing linen gowns for Annabel's child.

Peering to her right from her seat at the wood table, Alice grinned at the site of the lovely cradle James and Nathaniel had made; currently it was sitting neatly by the bed.

Sitting up straighter, Alice rubbed her sore hands and wished she could go outdoors. Her chores did not permit it and it was early afternoon and very warm out. She resumed her work silently, stitching a blue border for the gowns.

While she worked, Alice thought of the cabin that Uncas was building for them a few miles from the Stewart farm and a smile curved her lips. Uncas had taken her there once in the previous days. She had sat on the ground and observed as James and the brothers felled trees and hauled them to the clearing, sawing some of them into boards and setting the sturdier timbers up as walls.

The only things she had been able to recognize was a stone fireplace on the ground, when Alice had questioned Nathaniel, he had replied that this was always the first item to be built,. Everything else was erected around it.

Uncas had taken her hand and walked her to the hearth, pointing out where everything would be located and what was yet to be built.

Everything would be wood, Alice thought querulously… The bed, table, chairs, benches, stools; even the tankards. Alice had reminded Uncas that they required at least one trunk and a chest to store linen.

Standing there under the searing sunlight, Uncas had squeezed Alice's hand gently and replied that he would make sure to do just that; _anything you need, _he had said to her in his quiet manner.

Throughout the last few days, Alice had repeated those words to herself endlessly, and relived that perfect moment every night. This was the man she had always dreamed she would marry, so gentle and attentive to her but also treated her with respect.

_If only…._

Alice stood up quickly in agitation, deciding to take that long-overdue jaunt through the woods to clear her cluttered mind. The heat in the cabin was stifling and made her thoughts stray towards avenues that were quite appalling.

Storing her needles and threads in her basket, Alice folded the tiny gowns in a fluid motion and set them aside. She then headed for the door.

"Where are you going, sister?" asked Cora, who was outdoors churning. Pausing to catch her breath and mop her teeming forehead, her elder sister frowned at her.

"I wish to have a stroll before supper. I shan't be long," Alice replied emphatically.

James stood up from the wood he had been splitting, leaning against his long ax. He was shirtless, but Alice had long since become accustomed to this sight.

"A stroll? _Alone?_" James asked musingly. "But lass, Uncas is not here! I did not think it was possible for you to walk into the woods without the lad attached to your side."

Alice smiled politely and hurried into the forest.

It smelled of the earth and foliage, a heady aroma that she inhaled deeply as she paused to appraise the humid forestry that cordoned them off for miles.

She reminisced of cloudy, gloomy London with its assiduous and importunate rain. The last year she had only been able to count four light and sun-drenched days. Here, the heat was at times unbearable but did wonders for her disposition.

Alice looked swiftly around her and noticed she was a distance away from the Stewart's. Away from the stifling heat of the cabin interior, Alice could at last deliberate at length over what was unsettling.

The truth was, it had been difficult to bear the disdain of the neighbors. She could not fathom, after all these months of knowing each other and their rapport and amity with one another, that they should turn their backs on her. It was impossibly cruel on their part.

The other disquieting matter what that she was only now truly realizing the considerable disparity between herself and Uncas.

Alice was perspiring as she came to the river's edge and she gazed penetratingly at the aquatic undercurrent, watching the stream froth and roll.

She recalled a moment in the previous weeks when the females had sat by the fireplace in the evening, working hard over their dresses…

_Annabel looked cheerful as she measured the fabric around Alice's torso and arms, concentrating on the damp heat of the cabin. The men sat at the table and drank tankards of ale together. Alice looked up and caught Uncas's eyes staring at her form as Annabel wrapped the soft fabric around her waist and, even though Alice was fully clothed, she blushed at seeing the admiration in his gaze. _

_Annabel stood up straighter and frowned._

"_Blue or gold for your first dress, Alice?"_

_Alice opened her mouth to riposte but Uncas's deep voice cut her off quietly- "Blue."_

_She glanced at him shyly; Annabel shot Alice a furtive smile as James and Nathaniel snorted loudly into their drinks._

"_I never knew you to be so… adept at ladies fashion, brother," Nathaniel said loudly, snickering. _

_James clapped Nathaniel on the back and voiced his agreement. "Are you going to pick out her ribbons for her too? _

_Uncas did not looked ruffled or self-conscious as he replied evenly, "Blue looks better on you with your eyes. Gold looks better on your sister."_

"_I think you've had too much ale this night," Nathaniel laughed. _

_Annabel beamed approvingly towards the young Indian. "Right you are, lad. Gold will look ever so lovely on Cora with her dark hair. Blue suits Alice." She frowned at the other men who were laughing at Uncas. "At least there is one man who has given his lady ample consideration - unlike others I will not deign to mention."_

_James sat up indignantly. "I already told you that purple color is nice for you."_

"_It is lavender James, and it is quite atrocious on me," replied Annabel, looking annoyed. "It makes me look quite dowdy."_

"_Will there be any more trips to town?" asked Alice inquiringly. _

_When Annabel asked her the reason for needing to make a trip there, Alice replied that there were several details that had not been purchased for her wardrobe. _

"_Like stays," Alice pointed out, "and a busk."_

_The assembled group all paused and stared at Alice speculatively. _

_Nathaniel chuckled, "Stays? You mean that strange thing that chokes the air out of Englishwomen? I reckon you don't need that, girl. It's not practical."_

_Alice and Cora exchanged frowns, and the younger girl was quite shocked. "Indeed I do require these items, sir. It is not decent for a young lady to be without a proper corset and busk. I have been remiss for the last year but that does not excuse the fact that I will require of it, eventually."_

_She glanced pleadingly at Uncas, and was chagrined to see that he was frowning down at the table. He took a swig of his ale and seemed to give her words consideration._

"_What is a busk?" he asked._

_James glanced at Alice, but did not mock her as he was typically inclined to do. In fact, there seemed to be a light of understanding in the depths of his eyes as he replied to Uncas._

"_It's a flat wooden stick that goes in the front of ladies, under their stays," he explained. "They wear it so as not to bend down at the waist while they go about the day."_

_Uncas finally looked up at Alice and his look was incredulous with a degree of shock. James held Alice's gaze momentarily in understanding sympathy and spoke again to Uncas._

"_Lad, that is what ladies of their social standing are accustomed to wearing. To deny them this would be like denying you from wearing buckskin, see?"_

_Uncas shook his head slowly. "You have no need for it, Alice. Those tightening strings only harm you and that wood stick isn't reasonable when you'll have work that needs to be done around our home." _

_Alice flushed at his words; why was he not understanding this? It was not a question of practicality. It was compulsory and she told him this._

_Uncas merely shook his head again, "None of us can make the trip to the nearest town when there's so much work to be done. We also can't waste money on these things - they aren't necessary, Alice. These are foolish requirements."_

_Cora glanced at her sister's wounded expression and looked ready to share some words with Uncas but Nathaniel looked at his wife warningly, silently telling her to stay out of it._

"_Are you calling me frivolous?" Alice retorted, feeling offended and irate. Uncas looked confused and replied that he was not referring to her. _

_Annabel squeezed Alice's hand bracingly and said, "I understand what you are feeling, Alice. But believe me. Stays and a busk are not necessitous in our circumstances."_

"_They are," Alice said simply, angered that Uncas was openly refusing to consider her perspective and needs. "If you all will excuse me, I will retire. Good night."_

_As she lay in bed with her back to the cabin dwellers, Alice noticed that Uncas did not speak another word… but Alice was too consumed in her thoughts to pay this any mind. Our circumstances, Annabel had said. Alice was saddened. Her circumstances that had so drastically altered from one year to the next, her life that would never be the same, and beyond all of this the shadow of doubt that always lingered stubbornly in the back of her mind.. _

_The fear that she and Uncas would never come to an understanding, that they would not be happy in the end._

Alice came out of her reverie and blinked at the running stream. Uncas had come to her silently the next day while she had been hauling water and made amends with her, telling her he had not meant to offend her, that their ways were different but they would find common ground. Alice had been shocked, as Uncas hardly ever spoke this plainly.

Alice had dropped the pail of water onto the grass with a thud and embraced him in relief.

Presently, Alice was feeling worlds better and decided that it was silly to argue over female undergarments. She realized she was feeling turmoil over her neighbor's hostile reaction to her relationship with Uncas, and she was also fearful that she would not make him happy.

Alice continued her solitary walk for several more minutes, thinking fancifully of the peaceful life that she so yearned for when she suddenly stopped as she heard quiet voices around the bend of the river.

She tilted her head quizzically as she attempted to discern the identity of the speakers. this was not close to any of the homesteads or the Lenape camp. Walking up cautiously, Alice peered around the shrubs and stared, curiosity turning into complete shock.

* * *

Tankawun sat close to Stephen as he gingerly placed little daisies down her long ebony hair, giggling the whole while.

They had been sitting at their familiar spot by the river for a long while conversing, and Stephen had presented the girl with the daisies he had picked on the way to meet her.

Tankawun blushed prettily as Stephen smiled adoringly at her, skimming the back of his hand across her hair and cheek. She was happy with these long days of the hot season, happy to know this kind Yengeese boy, happy to sit by his side.

She knew that Stephen cared for her deeply and was romantically attached to her… it was all so strange from anything she had ever known. Most of the young men at the camp were serious and stoic. She had rejected all marriage proposals before her interest in Uncas because she could not fathom the idea of being wed to a man who did not laugh or smile. A life without laughter, to her, meant a life without surprises. Hopocan's youngest son Anicus had expressed interest in her, but he loved to hear himself talk and it was disconcerting.

Tankawun thought fleetingly of her mother, who did nothing but nag her lately. Mainly, her mother was interested in Uncas's relationship with the moon-haired girl and whether or not or not they would settle down eventually. Her mother constantly drummed into her the necessity of trying to catch Uncas alone, to persuade him to reconsider the travesty he was considering, of marrying a white woman. Tankawun was honest with herself. She still felt the same about Uncas and knew she could make him happy. She did not follow her mother's advice for the sole reason that he seemed to love the Yengeese girl. If Uncas decided not to marry the other girl, well, that was different.

But she was torn…. Because of Stephen. She had never met a young man quite like him. He belonged to the woodland as much as a soaring eagle or a great elk. He loved and appreciated their mother, the earth. He showed compassion to all and he believed in one race - the human race. They held such a bond, though they did not speak the same tongue.

Stephen dropped his hand from her face quickly.

"Alice!" he called in disbelief, darting to his feet.

Tankawun scrambled up and flushed deeply as Uncas's sweetheart, the moon girl, crept slowly up to them with a tentative smile.

"Stephen, Tankawun…" she murmured, nodding to them in turn. She began to converse quietly with Stephen in the Yegeese tongue, stealing quick glances at Tankawun. Tankawun did not understand their strange language but was rapidly learning more of it every day.

Stephen, meanwhile, looked at both the girls and tried not to grin. Tankawun looked mortified and Alice looked uncomfortable but amused.

"Stephen, I saw you putting flowers in her hair. Are they daisies?" asked Alice.

Stephen nodded, smiling broadly. He lowered his voice, "Do you remember Tankawun, Alice?"

Alice nodded slowly. "Indeed I do. I quite like her, Stephen. I gather you like her as well."

They all sat by the river-bank and Stephen was relieved that Tankawun was grinning broadly again. Several small daisies fell from her dark hair and Stephen smiled back at her, feeling his heart beat faster within him at the site of her.

"I like her very much."

The trio of young people spoke for a while longer, and even though not all parties understood each other, it did not impede them.

Stephen watched happily as Alice twirled a large daisy between her thumb and forefinger and tucked it behind Tankawun's ear, causing the girls to giggle.

"Alice, I wish I could marry her and be with her always," Stephen said with a sigh. "The world seems so much more brighter with her by my side." He turned to regard Alice, who saddened for some reason.

"It is perfectly true. Everything does seem more beautiful when one is in love. But… it can be difficult, Stephen. There are other factors to consider and you will not due yourself any sort of great service by ignoring this fact."

"But you and Uncas are happy. I have seen it." Stephen looked down at the ground and ran a hand restlessly through the rock studded embankment.

They were all silent for several long moments and Tankawun edged closer to him, her face drawn with concern. She linked her hand with his and smiled plaintively. Stephen drew their hands up and kissed the back of her palm.

"Who is that?" Alice asked suddenly, her voice fearful. The three of them shot to their feet and Stephen stepped in front of the girls as he stared hard at the Indian man that suddenly blocked their path. The young man looked enraged.

"I met him at the camp…" Alice whispered into Stephen's ear.

Tankawun glanced around Stephen's shoulder and let out a gasp.

"Anicus? What are you doing here?" she called quickly in her native language, appraising the boy uneasily. She had never seen the boy looking so angry.

"Looking for you!" he half shouted, glaring at the whites. "Now I see what you have been doing all this time. Sneaking off with one of _them._"

"These are my friends!" she fired back. " I don't need your permission to see them. Now go home and leave us."

"Does your mother know that you have become the squaw of a Yengeese man?" Anicus narrowed his eyes and stalked up to them. "You and this silly moon-girl?"

"She is not silly. She is Uncas's wife and you will watch your tongue."

Anicus rolled his eyes with a grimace. "This makes perfect sense then. Uncas rejects you for that stupid white girl and you throw yourself at this ridiculous red-haired creature."

Tankawun shook with anger, "Yes, go ahead, run back to the camp like a little child and tell Hopocan and my mother. You are jealous because I have friends outside the camp-"

"They are not your friends. They are white - they killed your father!"

"_They_ did not! You are also resentful because I will not marry you. That is why you follow me like a fool!"

Alice tried to pull Tankawun back from the scene that had developed into a screaming match. She did not understand what they were saying, and Anicus's shocking loss of composure. He had been polite enough when they had met the previous year. It must be jealousy, she concluded, judging from the seething, red-faced look he gave Stephen.

Suddenly Anicus lurched forward and grasped Tankawun by the wrist, hauling her towards him. The girl let out a scream and Alice panicked.

"Leave her! Do not touch her!" Alice shouted as she ran around Tankawun and shoved the Delaware youth forcefully with her two hands.

Anicus turned instead and punched Stephen in the face, causing the boy to crash to the ground.

Alice dug her feet into the ground between the two shouting Delawares and attempted to push the boy away, but he was stronger and taller.

Stephen shot to his feet with his musket in hand and slammed the butt of it into the other boy's abdomen, causing Anicus to gasp and double over. A second later the butt of his musket made forceful contact with his jaw.

Anicus groaned and fell onto the ground, but still he would not loosen the grip he held upon Tankawun. Both young men began to fight in earnest upon the river bend and Alice struggled to extricate herself and Tankawun.

Alice reeled back in pain as Anicus's elbow caught her directly in the face and Stephen began to swear in rage when he saw it. Stephen's punches became more forceful as Tankawun grabbed her hand and tried to untangle them from the heap on the ground. Alice saw Anicus remove his hatchet from his side and her eyes widened, she latched onto his right arm in an attempt to lower his weapon.

A rifle shot suddenly rent the air with a sharp crack and they all froze. Alice turned to see the figure of a tall, dark haired man emerge from the woodland, hurriedly re-loading his rifle. She felt her heart begin to race.

It was a British regular. She could tell from his vivid red uniform.

Alice hastily stood up. "There now, sir, there is no need to point your weapon upon my friends and myself. There are ladies present. We mean you no harm."

The young man eyed her suspiciously, more than likely confused by her drab attire but educated manner.

"I was merely interceding as I saw fit, miss," the man pointed out in a deep voice, aiming his rifle. "That savage attacked two colonials."

"Again with that word…" Alice whispered to herself , dusting her hands on her skirts.

"We have not been properly introduced, sir." This was all Alice could think to say in order to stall for time while she mentally deliberated what the next course of action would be.

"I am Alice Munro. These are my friends, Stephen Mason and Tankawun. The young man is Anicus."

"Isaac Bauman…" replied the Englishman as he turned his gaze incredulously at the Indians, amazed that Alice seemed to be on such familiar terms with them.

"What regiment do you pertain to, Mr. Bauman?" Alice questioned him.

"42nd Regiment of foot of His Majesties army."

"Clearly, sir. But I can assure you there has been no harm done. My friends and I were merely making sport."

"Indeed?" he asked in a calm tone, but there was a mistrust painted on his face. "Whooping and thrashing about on the ground? Your face is bloodied-"

"I fell," Alice exclaimed quickly, then turned and looked imploringly at Stephen.

The red-haired youth took a deep breath and reached down to collect his tri-corned hat. After looking at his companions quickly, he replied affirmatively that there had been no scuffle. It was a misunderstanding.

"We have no quarrel with each other, I reckon. We'll be on our way," Stephen tipped his hat and tugged at Alice and Tankawun.

"Stand where you are, lad!" the redcoat said warningly, gesticulating towards the Delawares. "I declare, sir, that I do not believe for an instance that it was all in good fun. Does that red friend of yours not realize it is a punishable offense to cause bodily harm to one of His Majesties subjects?"

Just then four more officers emerged from the trees at a brisk run, crowding besides their companion.

"Isaac, we heard a shot. What has occurred?" one of them asked urgently. They all had their arms in an air of tense and ready alertness.

"Nothing!" Alice said loudly in exasperation because Tankawun was now whimpering in fright. "By God, you lot come crashing in like a pack of wild beasts to corner unarmed civilians. I would think your time and effort would be better spent in pursuit of the French who are attacking settlements and endangering the militia!"

"It is not your prerogative to dwell on these matters, Miss Alice," Isaac Bauman said with a frown. He turned to the men of the regiment.

"I saw as clear as day as that savage boy manhandled the rest of them. It is of no concern to me why _she _would lie on his behalf, but the law must be upheld."

"Where are you stationed?" asked Alice with growing dread.

"Fort Loudoun," replied a sandy haired cavalryman, who had his bayonet trained upon Anicus. The Lenape boy looked terrified. Alice looked helplessly around at the Indians; she could not even fathom how terrified they must be at the sight of the implacable Englishmen.

Alice, for her part, kept a firm hand on her composure; or attempted to at any rate. She knew her one advantage was her father's military connections and the things he had told her in passing before his death, anecdotes of martial laws in the colonies as well as the various forts he had mentioned in his letters.

"Fort Loudoun is quite south of here," she said coolly. "I know it well. The fort commander General McCauley was a close friend of my father, before he passed."

Stephen gave Alice a piercing look but was wisely silent. He smiled grimly at Tankawun and studiously ignored Anicus.

Alice continued in a feigned pompous tone. "My father was Colonel Edmund Munro. He was stationed at Fort William Henry, north of here. As you all may or may not know, he fell in service of His Majesty. Now I admit I am not privy to all the details that pertain to colonial law, but I am aware there are certain treaties between the whites and Indians in these lands. You cannot haul off my friend here due to an imagined feud that you persist in believing."

"I imagined nothing, Miss Alice." Mr. Bauman was still stern but seemed to be losing conviction.

"There is a very precarious agreement of peace between the Delaware Indians and the settlers. It would be unseemly to endanger this certitude over a misunderstanding," Alice persisted. She could feel a droplet of sweat seep from her hairline and drip down the side of her neck.

"I think not," the dark haired man said suddenly. "We're taking this young man to Fort Letort for attacking settlers. Stand aside - Thomas, take hold of him."

The cavalryman with straw colored locks that Alice had briefly spoken to minutes before made a movement towards Anicus, but was suddenly stopped by the lanky figure of Stephen.

"Stand aside, lad. Do not interfere," the man ordered with narrowed eyes.

Stephen met his gaze unflinchingly. "He aint done nothing wrong. We only wish to go to our homes in peace. Leave us be, sir."

"Move along. Take these ladies home. We shall deal with the likes of this one."

"Where is Fort Letort?" asked Alice is a hushed whisper, horrified that a simple stroll thorough the woods had led to this debacle.

"Near Beaver Creek, few miles yonder. It's more of a civilian fort," Stephen responded. He directed his voice to the officers -

"I reckon I can't just allow you to take one of our party, sir. It's unprovoked."

"Then you shall accompany us, stupid boy!" Isaac Bauman retorted angrily and both young men had their hands promptly tied behind them. Anicus gave an agonized moan, shaking his head. Tankawun wept and clung to Stephen, talking wildly in her language.

Alice was roughly shunted to the side but stood her ground stubbornly. "Have you no shame? No sense of honor or decency?"

"They have disturbed the peace and take care, Miss Alice, not to reproach me in that manner." The redcoat Bauman had a dull red flush on his face at Alice's tongue lashing.

"Go away from this place. You should not spend your time consorting with these Indians."

"I shan't leave, sir. I cannot stand idly by whilst you take Stephen!" Alice felt such anger and frustration at this turn of events, and she had no means to assuage these sentiments. She could only continue to hound the men to release her companions for several more minutes while they attempted to arrest the boys, thoroughly impeding their progress.

"I can see the influence these savages have spread to you," the Englishman said dourly, rolling his eyes.

"That is of no concern to anybody, you useless lout!"

Alice felt she had crossed the line at these words. So did Mr. Bauman, apparently-

"Right. Take her as well, then."

Alice gasped as strong fingers curled around her forearm. She shook her head in disbelief.

"Tankawun, go home. Get away from here," Stephen said softly then met her eyes. "Fort Letort. Remember that. Fort Letort "

Tankawun watched powerlessly as her friends were dragged away, tears streaming down her face. _Fort… Letort. What does it mean?_

She turned towards the camp then changed her mind in a split second. Instead her moccasins sprinted towards the home of the Yengeese people the moon-haired girl resided with, hoping someone there would assist her and that Uncas would be present. _Fort Letort._

* * *

She had forgotten the way to the cabin in all these months and she knew nothing of reading the tracks like a man. So she ran in circles, careful to steer clear of the camp.

Her thoughts strayed to Stephen as she ran, a searing pain in her chest from the mad dash. The thought of her friend made her heart squeeze in anguish and she sobbed harder. She did not think the Yengeese would not hurt him or the moon girl but the whites were so strange. She agonized that this was all her fault.

By the time she made it to the homestead it was early evening, but still brightly lit. Tankawun was bathed in sweat and her hands shook as she hastily removed several leaves from her damp hair. She saw two dark haired women outside the cabin. _Fort Letort. _

Cora and Annabel stood outside, worriedly scanning the tree lines. James had gone out to check his traps and the brothers were currently in the camp. Alice had yet to return from her walk and Cora was almost beside herself with worry. Currently she and Annabel were discussing whether to wait for one of the men or go out to comb the forest in search of the mislaid girl themselves.

Annabel spotted the young Indian girl first, and was alarmed at her frantic face. Tankawun was her name, Annabel recalled. The girl rattled something in her tongue, pointing behind her.

Cora shook head in bewilderment; she and Annabel could only gaze at the Indian girl in wonder.

* * *

_Important A/N_

_I chose that particular flower for Stephen and Tankawun because daisies are said to represent innocence. _

_This chapter took months to reach you all because I (again) was not satisfied with it. In the end, I scrapped it altogether like the previous one and rewrote it. I have two alternate endings to this chapter as well as some scenes that I took out because I felt they were not doing anything for the flow of the story. Let me know if anyone wants me to email it to them. Seems like a waste of writing not to make that offer._

_It may seem like I am not dwelling enough on Alice/Uncas scenes and am getting angsty but I can assure you every single scene here has a significance. I will be reaching the climax of the story in the next few chapters, the one scene I had planned from the beginning, and I am anxious about it. So I am building it up. I have to include these doubts from Alice as they serve a purpose. _

_I am traveling out of state again (NYC) so my postings will be sparse for a while, and I have also decided to make the chapters a bit shorter so I can update faster. _

_Special thanks to Departed. Please R&R with any comments or questions… I love you all. _


	17. Chapter 17

_ChapterSeventeen_

* * *

Of all the vices in this wide, turbulent world, Isaac Bauman had a particular loathing for improvidence, squandering…. _Wastefulness. _He settled on that word after mulling it over.

He hated the way the nobility in England spent extravagantly on clothing and jewels they would only use once, the manner in which they dined lavishly on enormous quantities of food but threw most of it out. He despised that particular breed of people; the kind he interacted with when he traveled to London from Lincolnshire. The Church officials preaching from a pulpit, seeking donations for an already wealthy religious house when dozens of wretched souls perished from hunger and pestilence just outside of the parsonage or vicarage.

Edward Lamberth, his fellow soldier as well as comrade, had moments before strode up to him from the rear guard position as they escorted their "guests" to the fort. He had whispered that he had listened in on a conversation between the blonde girl and the settler lad, and he had been able to discern that Miss Alice was betrothed to an Indian.

"A what?" Isaac had asked blankly, certain he had heard wrong. "Ireland, you said? He's Irish?"

Edward appeared amused. "An Indian, see? A savage. I heard that red-haired, freckled toad asking her about the savage man she will marry soon."

"That little toad called him savage?"

"Of course not, Isaac. He only eluded to the fact. She's worried sick because as an Indian he most likely will not be allowed anywhere near the fort. I heard her refer to her fiancée's white brother as being useful in that regard."

Isaac had blinked as Edward guffawed stupidly, "That makes no sense, Edward! An Indian with a white brother? You heard wrong."

Edward then shook his head forcefully. "Ask her yourself, then. I heard correctly. By Christ's blood, she's marrying a filthy savage."

Isaac was completely thunderstruck. He had never beheld such a monstrous spectacle. The very idea of such a pretty English girl being bedded by a lawless heathen disgusted him to no end. _Such a horrid waste, _he thought as he looked back at the three prisoners. It was offensive enough that these painted ruffians either attempted to slaughter the Europeans, or, on the opposite end of the spectrum, the relatively peaceful tribes contemptuously refused British alliances and generally made life more difficult for the inhabitants of the continent. But now it appeared there were crazed females who would run off with these backwoods barbarians, these savages who were defiling girls of good English stock.

_Deplorable_, Isaac thought with an internal cringe. _Horrid waste_.

"How much further is it?" came the plaintive voice of Alice Munro from behind him, and Isaac could make out the worry and fear she was attempting to keep at bay.

"Not far," he muttered without sparing the girl a glance. He only shouldered his weapon and trudged on ahead, shaking his head at the strange turn this sunny day had taken.

* * *

Annabel hurriedly poured some ale into a tankard and rushed to Tankawun's side, handing the Indian girl the beverage and urging her to sip.

The three women were sitting inside at the wood table after franticly standing about for several minutes. Tankawun had began to shake and cry when it had become apparent that the two white women had no idea what she was saying.

"Drink, Tankawun," Annabel urged. "There's a dear. Drink up."

Cora stared at the girl anxiously, watching as tears built in her black eyes anew. Cora felt as if there was a heavy stone sitting in her belly and experience had indicated to her this was premonition. The fearful portent being that this involved Alice.

Tankawun gulped the ale soundly, then her face twisted in disgust before she spit it back into the tankard.

Annabel was torn between resenting this bit of shocking impropriety, yet also attempted to be reasonable; it was doubtful Indians consumed ale on a regular basis, if ever. If James had been present, he would have roared with laughter.

Shooting Cora a quick look, it was obvious that Tankawun's dribbling her spittle out had been lost on her.

"Do you know where Alice is, Tankawun?" Cora pleaded to the younger girl, her eyes bright with anguish. The young girl nodded and spoke quickly, gesturing to the forest.

"She does not understand you, Cora," Annabel murmured. "Do you know any words in Delaware? Perhaps Mohican?"

Cora thought hard, going over the words that she had heard Nathaniel and Uncas say but she could not recall with enough certainty. This was terrible. Something told her that Alice had found herself in trouble yet again and that Tankawun knew of her whereabouts. Why else would the girl be in such a state?

"The copybook," Annabel said suddenly, rising slowly and maneuvering her large belly around the table as she hastened towards Alice's basket by the bedside.

Cora was confused. "What do you mean? Alice writes absolute nonsense in there, recipes and descriptions of everyday life."

"Mundane details, yes," Annabel called back as she tossed items back and forth in the basket. "But perhaps we can find some indication of where she is. I do as well recall your sister mentioning that Nathaniel often gives her language lessons when he has time to spare."

Cora considered this. "Yes, but it is certain it would be in his language. Not Delaware."

The older woman strode back to the table, gingerly holding aloft the frayed little book.

"Never say never, Cora. I believe life has taught us this."

For the next several minutes the two women pored hard over Alice's journal. It was in a terrible state - it had almost come apart at the seams and the binding had come loose. Annabel made a mental note to procure her a new, sturdier one…

_Once she is back safely home._

"Anything?" asked Annabel nervously.

Cora glanced down, her dark eyes flitting rapidly across pages, "Recipes for pumpkin bread… instructions on how to grind our newly grown wheat into flour… bean porridge-"

"This is interesting," Annabel interjected and pointed a slender finger to the next page, "She has made a compilation of differences between the lifestyle of settlers and Indians. _Lenape wrap their victuals in leaves that are set over hot coals. Fish is cased in clay and set under the coals. This causes undesirable parts to come off cleanly."_

Annabel frowned, looking vexed as she read a passage. "Apparently my husband thinks I waddle like a duck with my belly. How indelicate! Why the insufferable…"

Cora tried her hardest not to look tetchy and impatient. "Yes, indeed… let us look further, shall we?"

During this exchange Tankawun had calmed herself down and was pacing the cabin, looking tautly at all these strange things the whites collected in their homes. She picked up the shard of mirror from atop the hearth and peered at it in interest.

Tankawun thought it was such a terrible thing not to understand, she was making plans to scour the forest for Uncas and his brother herself when her eyes rested on a Yengeese weapon slung over a chair. It reminded her strongly of the soldiers that had taken her friends.

A thought struck her and she twisted around, marching up to the white women. The moon-haired girl, Stephen and Anicus were taken by soldiers to Fort Letort. It was imperative she get this across to them, somehow.

Cora stared at the Indian girl and tried to piece together her words. She noticed Tankawun insistently pointed to James's rifle- he had forgotten it on his visit to the Lancaster's.

"Alice and Stephen?" murmured Cora. "Yengeese? What Yengeese? What about a rifle?" It was at this moment that Cora began to lose her fragile nerves to blind panic. "I do not understand, Tankawun!"

"Yengeese soldiers?" Annabel snapped the book shut and sat forward intently. "Cora, I think she is trying to say Fort Letort."

At this, Tankawun's eyes lit up and she nodded, repeating the phrase and pointing again to the rifle.

Cora looked from Tankawun to Annabel, noticing her friend wearing a perceptive look.

"I think she means to say that Alice and Stephen are at Fort Letort. But why?"

"That is impossible-" Cora shook her head in horror and disbelief.

The door opened and shut quickly and James strolled inside, smiling at the women. He noticed Tankawun and bowed courteously.

"Who is this jewel? Bonnie wife, you did not tell me we would have such a lovely guest gracing us tonight!'

His smile dropped as he noted all three terrified faces.

"What is it? What's happened?" he assessed the room quickly. "Where's Alice?"

After silently listening to his wife and Cora's hurried explanation, he cocked his head and looked meaningfully at Tankawun; she looked away silently.

"You say Stephen was with this lady?" he asked slowly, to which the other women nodded.

Annabel stood and perched her elbow on her midsection, studying her husband closely. "Why do you ask, James?"

"I don't rightly know. Maybe nothing, maybe everything." He walked swiftly towards the chair and slung his rifle around him.

"Come now, young miss. We are leaving."

Cora shot to her feet. "Where?" she demanded. Her eyes were huge and she was trying desperately to compose herself. This entire day had turned into a living nightmare and for one long, agonizing moment she wished she and Alice had never come to the colonies. In fact, she wished they still lived in Scotland. She wished with all her being that they were still in Iverness, young girls sitting by Papa's chair in the library as he read them fanciful stories, running wild and free through the moors with her little sister and Duncan and climbing trees to pick apples… how she longed for those innocent days.

Her heart was breaking. She could actually feel the dull ache in her chest squeezing the life from her, causing her to gasp for air.

"If I lose my sister, I will have _nothing _to live for!" she shouted, causing the group to jump. "Better to have been slaughtered and scalped by those heathens that took my father and friend Duncan from me…"

"Cora, my dear friend." Annabel curled a hand around her wrist. "Do not say such things. It is monstrous."

"It is true!"

James shook his head and gazed at her steadily. "God gave you life and that life is precious. No matter what fate throws your way, always know God sees your pain and if he gives you happiness there will also be sadness. You are strong enough to endure this- I swear to you, Alice will be found safely."

Cora scrubbed at her teeming eyes. "Are you certain? What will you do?"

James walked towards the door and turned, holding out a hand to Tankawun who stood frozen in her place. "The young lady and I are going to her camp to get Uncas and Nathaniel. It is nearly nightfall. I must be quick. We must go to Fort Letort."

The white women looked at him eagerly and nodded.

"I am going with you!" Cora declared and Annabel replied that she would as well.

"No, you will both remain here." James frowned.

Annabel looked ready to argue but James's voice cut off enough protestation she had in mind.

"Annabel Stewart." His voice was more stern than she had ever heard, but not by much and Annabel froze. It was so peculiar to hear him refer to her by her surname as it had always been a habit belonging to her.

He gave his wife a stern, reproving look. "You are my wife, and you will stay here. You are in no condition to go galloping through the forest. Think of the child, wife."

James continued, "Cora, I know Nathaniel would have my head if you came along. Stay with my wife and mind the farm, please."

The women nodded numbly, and James's eyes flicked to the Indian girl. Again he called to her, "Come, lass, I am taking you home and to Uncas and Nathaniel.

Tankawun did not deny it. After everything that had happened this day, she was wary of white men with weapons. But the yellow-haired man had a kindness in his eyes that she had not expected. She understood the last words he said and nodded staunchly.

They both headed out and Tankawun spared a glance to the women they were leaving behind, especially the glassy-eyed girl whom she knew was the blonde girl's sister and wife of Uncas's brother.

Only a sister would be that beside herself in grief.

The door shut quickly and the lone women were left to their solitude and thoughts.

* * *

The sun was already setting in the Valley, a breathtaking amalgam of orange and violet, as James walked swiftly towards the Delaware camp. He had wordlessly indicated to the Indian girl that she must direct to him the path and thus far she had complied, nimbly jumping over upraised tree roots and grass.

James kept his eyes on the land and his mind was alert to any potential danger, his gun at the ready, but his mind was straying quickly.

So this was the beautiful, mysterious maiden that Stephen had lost his wits over. James could not blame the lad one whit as the lass was incredibly lovely. Her face was fair and heart-shaped and she seemed sweet. Of course, she could not hold a candle to his bonnie little wife but she was still pretty.

Oh, and he had almost forgotten something else. His lips curved up into an irrepressible grin as he recalled that this was the female that had come between Alice and Uncas the previous year. Uncas had always been too unobtrusive and discreet for his own good, but fairly recently they had shared some brandy and Uncas, feeling expansive and slightly drunk, had explained to him the entertaining story. The Delaware lass who had latched onto him like the pox years before, who had an irritating and loud-mouthed mother who constantly interfered in everything… it was this girl! And now she was meddling with a white boy.

James gave a chuckle. Tankawun smiled at him uncertainly and James grinned back, but before long he was drawn back into worry and uncertainty. Uncertainty over his wife's nerves in her condition, Cora's desperation, and poor, brave little Alice.

The sun was almost set by the time James could make out the campfire smoke before them and he silently braced himself, praying these Lenape would be in a welcoming mood. There was already enough friction and resentment between the red men and whites, over the intrusion of the whites in their hunting grounds and such.

He had an idea quickly- "Here!" he commanded, sliding the rifle strap across Tankawun's thin shoulder. "In case they think I mean you or they any harm, eh?"

The girl looked at him, silently working her mouth in bewilderment at this mystifying action but James gave his impish smile.

"Just don't shoot me. Come along, lead the way."

Upon setting foot into the camp James looked amiably around him, his arms spread passively as he followed Tankawun. The people around him looked wary at the intrusion but Tankawun raised her voice and spoke soothingly to them, hopefully asserting that he meant nothing ill.

To be honest, they seemed to be reacting well and James felt oddly deflated. He'd imagined arrows, threats, bargaining, but they merely led him further in as he stared around him in fascination at a world that was so unlike his.

He could not help but notice what a good looking people they were, their hair black and straight, glinting in the near darkness. Their copper colored skin was smooth and unblemished, and their teeth were white and even- all of this unlike many of the white people.

He squinted around and finally he recognized a face. "Chingachgook!" he called in relief, walking towards the older man, carefully side-stepping a group of young girls who were twisting what looked to be plant fibers into ropes, and a few who were drying hides over a fire.

"Thank the Lord I have found you, sir," said James as soon as he came up to the solemn looking man. "I need to speak to your sons. It is quite urgent."

Chingachgook stared pointedly at Tankawun, and though he remained stone-faced, James could sense his uneasiness.

"Come," the Mohican said curtly, and they all walked into a dome shaped dwelling with an opening near the top where smoke curled out into the night. James could find no words for his amazement, which was unusual in itself. He noted all the herbs that hung down the side of the interior which lent to the air a pleasant fragrance. He studied the mats and skins that covered the tiny home. The entire structure was supported by poles that the Lenape people somehow bent to create the odd shape of the structure.

His respect for the Indians grew when he saw how resourceful and ingenious they were.

Once he, Chingachgook and Tankawun were settled into their places, Tankawun set the rifle down and launched into a rapid explanation of what had transpired, he saw how her hands shook as she gesticulated wildly.

There was a pause.

"What happened?" James inquired to the other man.

Chingachgook was calm and silent for several seconds before he reached behind him and grasped a fistful of what seemed to be the bark of a tree. He leaned forward and passed chunks of it to Tankawun and James, then he gingerly tossed his share, bit by bit, into the flickering fire.

James was so befuddled that he only gaped. He inhaled the aroma now emitting from the flames and asked, "Cedar?"

Chingachgook did not look up. "Do as I do."

The Mohican man had always had such a commanding presence that James did not think to disobey. As all three of them did the same for several minutes, the girl and Chingachgook began to say inaudible words to themselves.

It was not long before they all fell into a steady lull. The only thing James could hear was the breathing of the others and his own heartbeat. He thought momentarily that some may accuse him of participating in some pagan ritual, but this had such a soothing effect and he prayed hard for Alice and Stephen.

Head still bent, Chingachgook finally explained to James what had occurred- How Tankawun had been by the river with Stephen and Alice, how a lad named Anicus had come across them. There had been an argument, a scuffle, British soldiers became involved and hauled off those present, except for Tankawun who immediately went looking for Nathaniel and Uncas.

"Where can I find your sons? It is already nightfall. We have to go to Fort Letort."

"They are not here. They are hunting."

"Damn and blast," James muttered to himself. "What now? Fort Letort is not too far but it is still miles. I would say about a two hour walk since we'll be delayed in the dark."

The hide flap was yanked open and James turned to see another older Indian man walk in, his countenance grim. The man sat across from James and his gaze was unwavering.

"Hopocan," was all he said by way of introduction, and James gave him his own name and a smile.

The trio of Indians began a rapid conversation and James listened intently, trying in vain to find any similarity between the Delaware tongue and the English language. Of course there were none; it seemed to him that English was more flat and precise, while Lenape had such incredibly long words and jarring pronunciation. It was related to James that Anicus was Hopocan's boy, that they must wait for the return of the young men before deciding what to do.

James sighed and stared at his hands. As usual his mind did not stay in one place. He continued to study his large hands and reflected that hands seem to tell the story of a person's life. Currently his own square palms and long fingers were dirty and the skin cracked in some parts. The hands of a farmer who toiled hard outdoors. When he had first met Alice and Cora their hands had reminded him so strongly of Annabel's, when she had been younger. Soft and white, the nails pearly and clean. Hands of gentlewomen unused to work.

He also remembered his mother's worn hands and her tired demeanor towards the end of her life, but he put that from his mind. It was the one thing that could still make tears well in his eyes, the memory of her face before she died, even after all these years.

He tried to envision the land of his birth, Scotland, but could no longer conjure it as clearly as he had able to as an adolescent. Looking down he remembered instead the happy times with his mother, how she had brushed his tousled hair from his eyes and nursed him when he had been sick, how she had sang when she cooked.

There had been one song that mama had sang called Bonnie Jenny Shaw that he still recalled as clear as day, a song about a lad who fell in love with a pretty milk-maid and she was fairer than any girl in the land… Annabel always reminded him of this song, which was why he called her bonnie wife and queen.

'_Tis then I wander forth to meet, my own, my bonnie queen… _James felt himself begin to grin and he hummed the words to himself quietly… _For as we wander through the fields, when nary a one is near… and whisper tales of love, that's to each other dear… _

Looking up, James was nonplussed to see the others staring at him inquiringly.

"You were singing." Chingachgook said this as a statement, pulling out of his hide outfit a clay pipe.

"Yes, well… I was remembering a song my mother sang to me before she left the world," James explained,."If my wife gives me a daughter, perhaps I will sing it to my wee lass."

Hopocan translated this to Tankawun at her insistence, and the girl smiled gently at James.

Chingachgook then said, "Hopocan thinks it is a good night for a story while we await my sons. We will tell you of how the tortoise made the world."

James relaxed on his haunches and the three men passed the pipe to one another in easy companionship, and Tankawun curled into an animal hide, the crackling firelight reflected in her dark eyes as she blinked blearily at them.

Hopocan began to narrate the story in his gruff voice while Chingachgook translated, a fascinating yarn of how, long ago, there had been nothing but water. One day a great tortoise rose form the vast ocean and the water fell from it's shell and this became the earth.

At this point in the story a woman who looked startlingly like Tankawun looked inside the dwelling and appeared aggravated when she saw him. She looked about ready to scream at James when Hopocan opened his eyes a crack and shot a few choice words at her, pointing away from them all in an exasperated motion. The woman cut her eyes and glared at James and Tankawun before stomping away. From inside her cocoon of enveloped furs, Tankawun gave a muffled giggle.

"Tankawun's mama…" James said quietly. "Her reputation precedes her."

"We know," Chingachgook replied after a pause.

Hopocan shook his head shortly in aggravation before closing his eyes anew and continuing with the story.

"In the middle of the ground grew a great tree," Chingachgook picked up the tale again. "From the long root of the tree grew the first man. The man was alone for a long time, until the tree bent the highest branch it had and touched the ground, and thus the first woman was made. This was the beginning of all things."

James was happy to hear this story, and was aiming to say so when shouts came from outside. They all shot to their feet and swiftly exited, James gave a silent prayer that it would be the brothers.

So his heart was glad when he came face to face with Uncas and Nathaniel, who looked worn from the hunting trip but at the same time worried at his appearance.

"What's happened?" Nathaniel demanded, always the more blunt of the brothers. "Is everyone alright?"

James looked at Uncas's flinty black eyes and looked around at the others and Tankawun, but for some reason they were not inclined to speak. They only stared at him. James locked eyes with Uncas and he saw the fear that flashed in the man's gaze.

"Alice and Stephen Mason… they are gone."

"What?" asked Uncas, tilting his head to the side and Nathaniel took steps forward, grasping James's shoulder painfully tight.

"Where?" he demanded.

"They were arrested not far from my home, along with a young man from this camp."

Uncas shook his head in shock. "Arrested? For what? Where is she?"

"Tankawun can explain more thoroughly. The important thing is I know where they are being held- Fort Letort. We must decide what to do."

Tankawun stepped forward and began to expound for their benefit the story with more detail, and the brothers looked at each other before hastening to the dwelling James had just exited. They reappeared again and James's eyes became huge as he noted they were armed to the teeth with rifles, hatchets and knives.

James was uneasy. "Boys, this is not the way to go about. We will simply reason with soldiers at the fort and leave with our three friends." _God, I sound like Annabel. _

"The way I see it," Nathaniel said as he checked his weapons in the darkness, "we are goin' to get them back either way. The problem is whether it will be the easy way, with words, or the more difficult way."

"Meaning, the rifles and such."

"Exactly, James."

James shrugged helplessly. "Alright then. I know the way to Fort Letort, it's down by Beaver Creek."

"That's a-ways," Uncas spoke now, reloading his rifle carefully. "We have to hurry."

Minutes later, Tankawun watched the three young men as well as Hopocan and Chingachgook head out into the woods. James turned at waved goodbye to her, his teeth gleaming in the darkness, and Tankawun smiled faintly back.

Turning slowly, Tankawun faced her mother who had such a wild look of fury on her face that for a moment Tankawun felt a start of dread.

"Go… wigwam… now!" her mother whispered starkly, her voice trembling with suppressed rage. By now everyone had heard that Tankawun had been secretly meeting with Yengeese people, including a young man.

"Now!" the older woman roared as her wrath finally broke and Tankawun scurried into her family's wigwam. The onlookers looked at her with pity.

* * *

It was all dust and darkness, as far as Alice could see.

They had arrived at the fort at some point in the afternoon and had been paraded through a long line of bemused soldiers in their army red uniforms. The man Isaac Bauman was seeking, General Waddell, was not present at the moment and so the soldiers scrambled to find accommodations for their newly acquired prisoners.

Fort Letort was not as large as William Henry was, being that it was a civilian fort. She noticed there were many common people milling about outside of the fort, including women and children.

There was a shortage of space and only one small room available with a tiny window. The men had argued amongst themselves of the soundness of leaving Alice alone with two young men, locked in a room, so in the end they had chained Anicus and Stephen together against a wall and on the opposite wall sat Alice. They had only chained her feet, leaving her with some mobility at least.

She heard the lock click open and someone enter.

"We are expecting General Waddell tomorrow morning, Miss Alice. Perhaps then we can see what is to be done."

Alice gave no response as she lay her head in her skirts that were upon her upraised knees, facing away from him. There was a muttered oath and something was placed beside her. Alice peeked to the side and saw that it was a trencher of bread and cheese.

"What of my friends? What will they eat?"

But Isaac had already walked briskly out; Alice heard the lock turn again as she sat in the ensuing darkness. It was not yet completely night but it would come within minutes.

Alice raised herself to her knees and picked up the plate of food, awkwardly crawling towards the young men. She kneeled in front of them and bade them partake of the tiny meal with her.

She smiled softly towards Anicus and he looked away from her tremulously. She could see the regret in his gaze. She wanted him to know that she did not blame him, that he had not meant to cause this.

Alice picked apart the bread and also divided the cheese, and fed them all in turn from her hand.

"All is well. We will share. All will be well," Alice murmured.

* * *

Sorry for the delay, I was out of state. I am happy to report that my writer's block has been vanquished, in fact it has gone up in flames. Please R&R and thank my bonnie beta, Departed.


	18. Chapter 18

ChapterEighteen

* * *

The night air should have been refreshing, but unfortunately it was humid and sticky; not to mention the darkness put a strain on his alert but aged and tired eyes.

Chingachgook reflected to himself with a sort of jaded, philosophical pondering that life had many winding trails. Some were easy and worn smooth by the treading of those who had led the way before him. Other paths meandered in a fickle manner that demanded caution and restraint. Above all else, every step of the way in life had to be taken with foresight.

The folly of youth prevented this sort of wisdom, the Mohican man thought as he plodded carefully through the night-time forest beside his old friend Hopocan. The young, with their blind optimism and hazy vision for the uncertain future did not heed the warning- Always choose your paths carefully. Chingachgook had had a very wise father who had made sure to instruct his children on how to choose a way and pick battles.

But the times were different now. Chingachgook had attempted to raise his sons in the same manner he had been brought up, but he could see they were not of the same making as he himself was, as his people before him had been. Nathaniel had been inculcated with the ways of the red men. His mind was of their people, his heart yearned to belong. But his blood was of the whites and this made a blatant difference. His white son lacked the stillness of the Mohican, he was taut as a bowstring in his impatience and opinions. His blood son Uncas had all the attributes respected by the red men, he had been taught from the cradle to walk an honorable path and remember the ways of his people…

Yet he had chosen a Yengeese girl, despite his upbringing and the guidance from his father. It was this place, Chingachgook thought, staring up at the dark blue vault that spanned for the night sky, stars blinking above them all. The world had changed in the many moons that he had been a boy.

Chingachgook was uneasy with the path that he being led down blindly. There was much he did not recognize or condone. The ferocity in the eyes of his impulsive white son, the despair being held at bay by Uncas- all these were blinding emotions. Even his worry for his youngest son and the light haired girl. The pair had been much too impetuous in their love and rash decision to marry. Many people would scorn their union. But the girl was now his own daughter, she was Uncas's future, and so he himself would fight for her as fiercely as if she had been born to him.

The nebulous night held a premonition of strife and tribulation not far ahead of them.

He could hear the young men speaking ahead as James Stewart led the way through the coiling thicket.

"Nathaniel, not to pry or anything of the sort but a little bird told me of your run-in last year with the law in Fort William Henry."

Nobody said anything for a restive moment.

"Which little bird?" Nathaniel inquired in a neutral voice, while Chingachgook could barely see the outline of Uncas silently making his way before his brother.

"Your wife- Well, Cora told Annabel who told me. You know how it is." James said this with a mischievous pitch. The older Mohican heard his white son sigh heavily.

"Women. Well I aint sure what you heard but I assume the facts are unchanged in the retellin'."

"You deserted?"

"Yes. Why, James?"

James shrugged in the darkness, "Just making sure you understand is all. You deserted and were sentenced to hang, now you are going to another fort where they may recognize you… to make demands of them."

"I'd thought of that, my logic is William Henry is much north of here." Nathaniel replied thus with a blasé shrug.

"That is not logic, Nathaniel. It's lunacy, suicide. You would be surprised at how resourceful the recoats can be at circulating the names of deserters and malcontents."

Hopocan leaned closer to him then and inquired what the boys were discussing as he could perceive their disquiet. Chingachgook enlightened his friend of the situation and watched silently as the two white men argued amongst themselves for several minutes. As usual, Nathaniel was refusing all advise no matter how sound.

"All I am saying, lad, is let me do the talking while you stay hidden in the woodland!" James declared with exasperation, "God forbid one of the survivors of the massacre made it to Letort and recognizes you."

Nathaniel shook his head mulishly. Hopocan grunted loudly in derision.

"_Ahi ahchinkxe, teta peyat_!" the Lenape jeered and Chingachgook clearly imagined his eldest son rolling his eyes near the front.

_It is true, Nathaniel. No matter where you go you are stubborn_.

"We are not far," James said suddenly and gestured towards the placid body of water that was taking shape before them, a rolling black mass that reflected the heavens, "this is Beaver Creek, now we change course and head east for a bit. We are less than a mile from the fort."

Uncas looked back and his black hair momentarily glowed under the iridescence of the palely lit moon.

"James is right, brother. You are a deserter and I am an Indian. Let James lead the discussion. He knows the land and the people here," Uncas paused and then said collectedly, "the cabin was finished today. Alice will be happy."

Chingachgook tilted his head to the side and stared at his son, sensing the wistfulness and worry.

Not long after this the silent men hunkered stealthily behind a yellow birch tree and stared forth in trepidation. All of them held their weapons aloft.

"I reckon this aint the Valley?" whispered Nathaniel, his eyes unreadable. James considered this.

"Not really. This is Carlyle County."

Uncas now spoke up, "Not much of a fort in terms of size but it looks well defended." He gripped his rifle tightly and continued appraising the land and edifice from every angle. Nathaniel saw the difficulties facing them right away.

Fort Letort stood on a slanted hill high up, so the odds of sneaking up to the fort went from slim to nonexistent. The previous assessment had been correct, it was a small sized fort mainly erected for the colonials to use in their own defense. But from all angles they would be spotted as it was only a grassy terrain on a steep incline. At least they had the advantage of darkness.

"There are about three guards up there," Nathaniel squinted and pointed directly ahead to the a high point in the fort, "must be up at the sally port. I reckon we could cause a diversion somehow when the watch changes and make it up there-"

"Have you lost your senses?" Chingachgook interrupted coldly in his abrupt manner, "That is what you have in mind to do then, endanger your brother's wife and everyone here by storming a Yengeese fort. Have I taught you nothing?"

The words were spoken in Mohican thus James felt puzzled, he could only hazard a supposition that the old man had absolutely lambasted his son from the uncomfortable taciturnity that now permeated the air.

"Well," James murmured after shifting uncomfortably for a few moments, "whatever we mean to do has to be decided now. I still think we should reason with them first, explain Alice and Stephen meant no harm and the Lenape lad must be released to avoid harming the peace between the whites and Delaware."

Hopocan nodded approvingly though James was unsure how much he had understood. The Lenape patriarch looked increasingly strained at the thought of his son being held by Yengeese soldiers.

"I agree," he spoke now in halting English, nodding slowly. Nathaniel continued to look morose and obstinate.

"Alright then," he groused as they began to make their way towards the hill, "we'll walk right up to them. Like sittin' ducks."

"You will be the sitting duck, lad." James said logically, shrugging under the moonlight.

* * *

There was a clipped knock on the door and Cora ran to yank it open, followed closely by Annabel.

Facing them in a little row were Elizabeth Mason, Gregory Newsom and Lucy between them. The girl was blinking soporifically up at them as she leaned against Mr. Newsom.

"Has anyone seen Stephen?" asked Elizabeth with no preamble, her perturbed eyes scanning the interior of the cabin as they breezed in. Night had fallen by then.

Gregory Newsom continued, "Good evening, Mrs. Stewart and Mrs. Poe. Stephen did not return from an afternoon jaunt, we do not wish to impose but it is quite dark. The Lancaster's have not seen him and Robert is searching the woods as we speak."

The younger women stared at Mrs. Mason, wide-eyed, until Elizabeth's face blanched impossibly pale.

"What happened to my son?" There was a note of rising hysteria.

"Sit down, Elizabeth," Cora urged as they all walked to the large table in the phosphorescence of the firelight. She was determined to give an impression of complete equanimity and calm serenity, regardless of how she truly felt.

Later that evening, Annabel sat by the fire sadly as she finished sewing the baby blankets Alice had labored over a few hours every morning. Her stitches were small and precise though not as neat as Alice's. It was a small activity but seemed to give her purpose as they all waited.

Mrs. Mason had fallen apart spectacularly… at first. It was only now that Annabel thought to herself that Elizabeth and Gregory Newsom were a perfect match in every way. It was he who had calmed the older woman when she had been about to collapse in hysterics, upon receiving the news of her son's arrest. With only a small touch to her elbow and a few words, he had assuaged her panic and Elizabeth was now sitting on the bed beside Lucy who was curled asleep.

_Gregory and Elizabeth_…. The more Annabel thought about it the more it seemed clear. They were both widowed, but more importantly they were remarkably similar in character. Both were honest, hardworking, patient, extraordinarily kind. Gregory was older than Elizabeth but he would provide for the woman and her children. That was another thing, he loved Stephen and Lucinda very well.

"What do you hope for, Annabel? A boy or a girl?"

Annabel looked up to catch the eye of Mrs. Mason, who was smiling dauntlessly through her fear. Annabel set the needle and thread down.

"I am not sure," Annabel answered honestly, "I always assumed men wanted boys to carry on the family name and so for a spell I wished for a son, but I have a notion James would be equally happy with a girl. If not more so; he adores little girls."

Elizabeth nodded, looking tired. She glanced at Lucy for long moments, lost in thought.

"John and I only had Stephen for so long that we assumed there would not be another child. We were happy, but I could sense John longed for more. When Lucy was born we were over the moon in happiness. One of each, he said this over and over."

Annabel sighed and splayed her fingers on the malleable fabric on her lap. "If I could choose it would be a girl, only because James seems taken with the idea. A girl who will be the image of him."

"Have you thought of names, Mrs. Stewart?" Gregory asked winsomely from his seat at the table; he was sharpening one of Alice's quills to begin penning a letter, apparently.

"I would like for a son to be named after his father, and if it is a girl-child James would like to name her Lillian." Annabel paused. "What are you doing, Gregory?"

"I am interested in going myself to Fort Letort, Mrs. Stewart. I am thinking perhaps to detail a strongly worded letter to the commander on our behalf, petitioning for the release of those detained."

Elizabeth gave Gregory a dimmed look of amused tenderness; she wondered what Gregory considered to be "strongly worded" when his nature was so pliant and soft-spoken. So benign.

Elizabeth Mason watched as Cora crossed the darkly lit cabin and sat beside her on the bed.

"They will be fine, Mrs. Mason. You know this, they will not harm white settlers. It is the Indian lad who is in need of assistance." Cora smiled bracingly at the older woman. Elizabeth's next question surprised her.

"Why did you choose to remain in the colonies, Mrs. Poe? I do not mean to offend or intrude, but is not life more comfortable in England?"

Cora was silent for a long stretch of seconds. "Indeed, life would have been so much more complacent and ascertainable. But you cannot fathom how weary I was of having a life laid before me and myself, powerless to stop the tide. I wished to remain with Nathaniel," Cora turned to stare at Annabel and Mr. Newsom; they had ripped out several pages from Alice's copybook to use for the letter.

"My sister wished to remain here as well, we wish to endure and not to be at the mercy and whims of others in London. I also cherish every person in this room who are as close to me as Alice."

Elizabeth squeezed Cora's arm tightly, as if to comfort her. After all, it was her only sister who was missing beside Stephen.

Cora looked down and traced with a fingertip the worn bed sheets she and the other women had been sharing for a year now. One year that has felt as an eternity would. It was true because at this precise moment the previous summer she and her young sister had been onboard a British ship, the Gibraltar, bound for the Americas for only a short stay. Both sisters had often spoken on their passage of how exciting the trip was and how invidious their acquaintances would be of them upon their return. News had most likely reached London months ago, that the entire Munro family as well as Maj. Heyward had been slaughtered by savages. Who would have ever thought that they would lose so much; their entire way of life and everyone in it, but at the same time gain so much more.

Why was this sinking feeling settling into her belly? She had felt it before, on the march out of Ft. William Henry when her father had surrendered. As if she were blind woman walking aimlessly in the streets but very much aware of a potential danger coming her way; she was reminded of the horses they had left back in England who perceived an upcoming change in weather or if a path were unsafe to tread.

"Elizabeth, do you feel it? That silence?" Cora said this before she could measure her words but the other woman took a shaking breath and nodded, resting her hand on her sleeping daughter's still back.

"The silence that seems to fill the very air before a disaster strikes. Something looming." Annabel whispered this so softly that Cora could barely be sure she had heard her.

* * *

Isaac Bauman gripped the edge of the elegant ligneous chair before him tightly as he stared critically upon the five men; they all stood before him in General Waddell's unoccupied quarters. Two whites and three Indians. Isaac felt a prickly headache settling on the left side of his temple, adding to this nuisance.

These _gentlemen_ had bloody strolled into the fort- well, flanked by soldiers, obviously- and stated they needed to speak to the fort commander pertaining to their kidnapped acquaintances. Now they were here. Isaac's eyes narrowed as he stared hard at the insolent one that appeared half Indian; with his blue eyes and European features, yet strange clothing and wild hair. There was a definite air of defiance to him.

"What is this nonsense you are spewing, man? We are His Majesties soldiers second and gentlemen first. We have not kidnapped anyone. To whom do you refer?" He knew of course, why else would there be this pack of heathens before him. But there was something about the hard-eyed look in the arrogant man before him that made him feel defensive and argumentative.

Another tall man removed his hat, wiping his forehead. His dark blonde hair was plastered to his head.

"My name is James Stewart, sir," the man said with a faint Scottish inflection to his voice, "and the three youngsters you arrested earlier are with us. I am certain it can all be explained. Forgive and forget, eh?"

_No, actually, it is not that simple you bloody Scotsman_. Isaac looked around and gazed at every man in turn for long moments, eyes lingering on the youngest Indian man with his highly defined cheekbones and dark arched brows.

"Who are the rest of you?" Isaac asked, drumming his fingers on the chair in irritation. He did not like that he was pulled from supervising the rounds to have to heed to farmers and Indians. Introductions were made when Isaac's face shot up-

"You two are brothers, you say?" he demanded. Why was this piece of information so important? It tugged at his memory.

The one called Nathaniel narrowed his eyes and shook his head disdainfully.

"That's what I said. You have my sister-in-law detained somewhere in this fort, as well as our two friends. One of them, the Lenape boy, is Hopocan's son."

He jerked his head in the direction of the stocky, silent Indian man, "I don't reckon I have to remind you of the peace between the two people, an accord that is now very uncertain with a Delaware boy locked up."

Isaac could not help but notice that the other soldiers seemed to give the older Indian men a very wide berth and even now monitored them tensely. There was something about their penetrating black eyes and expressionless glances that made Isaac think of the marble antiquated statues he had seen on Greco-Roman displays, when he'd toured the continent as an adolescent.

Never the less, they were soldiers of England and not frightened school boys. Isaac frowned at his comrades.

"I heard you, lad," Isaac replied to Nathaniel, "pray forgive my ignorance as I have not been too familiar with any marriage that produces both a white son and a red son."

Nathaniel Poe's eyes brightened with anger, but Isaac was bewildered when Mr. Stuart tossed his head back and bellowed his laughter loudly. His bark-like laughing made Isaac think of a stray mongrel.

"Ay," he said after his mirth had subsided into heaving chuckles, "right you are, Mr…?"

"Bauman. Isaac Bauman, originally stationed in Fort Loudoun but I was sent to Letort with some of the regiment to make sweeps for French and Indian raiders." Isaac could only stare at the Scotsman. Was he slightly mad? Why was he laughing like some half-wit?

"Unfortunately General Waddell is not present, we expect him tomorrow," Isaac straightened and placed his hat into the crook of his arm, feeling fatigued and wanting away from these ill-mannered savages and peasants. He noticed Mr. Poe open his mouth furiously.

"Before you ask, Poe, the answer is no. It is out of the question to release our guests without the consent of the General. Come back tomorrow around noon. Now, please forgive me but I must take leave of you all. You will be escorted out."

The younger Indian lad treaded carefully up, his black eyes intently fixed upon Isaac.

"Is Alice being treated well?" the red man asked. _Why do you care_? Isaac thought sourly; when suddenly all the pieces of this disturbing puzzle fit into place.

"You-" Isaac almost reeled back in shock, "You are the Indian that Miss Alice is betrothed to?"

The Indian man blinked slowly and remained silent, more than likely surprised that the girl had divulged this. Isaac was lost in thought for several moments, again marveling at the thought of pretty Alice Munro, an English rose, and this copper-skinned backwoodsman joined in some mockery, some farce of a marriage.

"She somewhat mentioned this, your impending nuptials." Isaac evaded the fact that it had actually been gleaned through pure eavesdropping, "Then her sister is married to…. this gentleman?"

Nathaniel Poe nodded stoutly.

_Another waste,_ thought Isaac with a mental sigh. The man was as savage as the family he claimed as his own. Perhaps even more so, at least the others gave some semblance of protocol and decent conduct.

"She is in a holding cell with the other two. I have already given her food. Come back tomorrow," Isaac said and quickly strode out. He made eye contact with Edward Lamberth, "make sure they leave and do not come back until noon."

* * *

Tschitani ducked to avoid a clay pot that soared over her head as her mother screamed loudly. The girl of eleven summers walked quickly to a corner and made herself appear occupied weaving a rush mat, lest her mother notice her inactivity and begin to berate her.

But still, she marveled her sister Tankawun's composure at their mother's tongue lashing. Grandmother was too long accustomed to this constant spectacle and remained silently pounding corn with a deep frown on her weathered brown face. Tankawun kneeled on the ground, head bent and silent.

Tshitani's eyes widened in alarm when she saw her mother rip the thick rope of twisted rawhide from the wall of the wigwam. She whimpered.

Her mother's eyes were large and more livid than she had ever seen, but the older woman did not beat Tankawun. Instead she spilled her fury onto the ground and cracked the whip in a downward arc. It snapped as it hit the surface.

"You ungrateful little beast!" Mother shouted piercingly, shaking her head so forcefully that her black braids flew through the air, "you have made me the mockery of the entire village! Is this what you wanted?"

Tankawun shook her head slowly with her neck bent and her back still to her terrified younger sister. Their two other sisters huddled in their respective sleeping spaces, probably pretending to sleep.

"No?" their mother mocked caustically, "do you not realize what you have done? Everyone here knows you have been seeing that white demon! By Mannitto, if I had known you were sneaking off with one of them I would have thrashed you to pieces!" She waved the whip menacingly into her eldest daughter's face.

Chemames tilted her head and stared at Tankawun, growing steadily angrier. This time the whip snapped down very close to the girl's knees, causing her to jump and stare at her mother, wide-eyed. Good, thought Chemames, she needed to see a reaction from her insolent daughter.

"You have no idea, child, how beautiful you are…" Chemames' tone was softer now momentarily, "that has always been the problem. You are too much of a dreamer to realize you can use that to your advantage, to _our_ advantage with a good marriage. I only want to see you taken care of by a good man, a good provider and warrior."

Chemames groaned and twisted the rope agitatedly between her clenched hands. "Uncas would have been the perfect match! Last of his line and his father is a greatly respected chief-"

"Mother," Tankawun interrupted softly and sighed as she attempted to dissuade her mother, "Uncas chose the other girl."

"Why do you not say what she is, child? A Yengeese girl who used some sort of sorcery upon Uncas to make him stray."

"Make him stray from what?" asked Tankawun but this time there was a note of piqued impatience.

"From you!" Tankawun looked up to see her mother's lip curl in disgust before she continued badgering her daughter, "It is no wonder you failed so miserably in securing Uncas. You gave into defeat so quickly over some pasty-faced Yengeese _wench_, some-"

"She is not, Mother! Please, why must you always say such terrible things? He chose her over me and I must accept that and move on." Tankawun regretted her word choice almost as soon as she uttered it, and moments later the coarse edge of the whip came slowly to her chin, tilting her face up to her mother's irate and unblinking stare.

"Move on… to what?" Chemames whispered, raking her daughter's face.

Tankawun's mind became completely blank as she tried to steady the beat of her heart. The immediate image in her mind was red hair paired with kind eyes. The thought of her friend Stephen caused her throat to seize but also a warmth to pool in her innards as she remembered his lop-sided grin, his gentle gaze and how his touch always lingered long after they parted ways.

What _did_ she feel? Tankawun wasn't sure what she felt for who anymore. In Uncas's case it was a burning longing, a pulsing obsession that has anchored itself into her at a young age and refused to loosen its grip. Uncas use to make her heart race and palms sweat. With Stephen she felt so much happier and at ease, the world seemed to brighten. Sometimes days would go by without her recalling their contrasting tones of skin. She recalled with a painful twisting in her belly how he would gift her Yengeese trinkets and sweets and hold her hand so tightly as they watched the world drift by.

"Do you mean to tell me that you have feelings for the flame-haired Yengeese boy?" Chemames pulled her face closer till she was eye-to-eye with the nervous girl.

"I…" Tankawun's throat had become arid but in that one wild moment she knew she could not lie.

"I- I think I do. Yes, I do."

Tschitani, listening to every word, began to sob as their mother's hand flew through the air and cracked loudly against Tankawun's cheek, causing her sister to tumble to the ground.

What happened after was a confusing succession of colors and voices as Grandmother rose from her cross-legged position and gave her most severe command for Chemames to leave Tankawun in peace. It was a command Chemames would not disobey. After much screaming and storming about the cramped wigwam, Grandmother and Mother exited to discuss Tankawun in private outside.

Not much the sisters lay side by side, Tschitani sniffing as Tankawun stroked her hair and bare arm.

"Do you really love that Yengeese boy?" asked the younger girl softly.

Tankawun paused her hand caressing her sister's dark, tangled hair.

"It is not that simple."

"What about Uncas?"

"It is not to be. Now do not cry and go to sleep, little one." Tankawun kissed her sister's warm forehead and frowned as the girl began to shake.

"I am frightened! Mother says you are wicked and she will send you away. I won't let her do it, Tankawun. I will go with you."

Tankawun sighed and shook her head, wishing more than anything that things were different. That they could be a normal family, that they could speak freely without having to worry over Mother's foul and unpredictable temper. The older women had been gone from the wigwam for quite a long time.

"Little sister, do you know how you were given your name?" Tankawun asked gently, watching as her sister's face registered this question.

"Father?"

"Mmm. When you were four summers a poisonous snake bit you and you almost died, you stopped breathing. Father carried you into our wigwam after he found you and we all tried to nurse you back to health but you would not awaken. We even made arrangements for your burial."

The young girl looked amazed at this, "Was I so sick?"

"Yes, we made a promise not to speak of it ever but you deserve to know. Grandmother bathed you. We put ashes all over our faces and cried and cried. Father put you into your finest garments and prayed for your soul to reach the happy hunting grounds as the grave was being dug. Then…."

"What happened?"

"You suddenly sat up and said you were thirsty." Tankawun chuckled softly at her sister's exaggerated gasp of astonishment.

"Father gave you your name which means _stronger_ because of this. Because your spirit came to us stronger than it ever was, and also as a reminder to everyone else to never doubt you."

Tschitani looked so emotional for long moments, but her little-sister heart was gratified that Tankawun had told her this, it proved to her that Father must have loved her. He had given her a powerful name, like his had been. He had been Eluwak- it meant the fierce one; the most powerful one. Out of everyone in her family, Tschitani adored her sister Tankawun the most and admired her lightheartedness and prettiness.

"Look what I have, _naxisemes_." Tankawun pulled out a strange sharp object that appeared to have light trapped within it.

"What is it?" Tschitani asked in fascination and peered into it. She jumped back, startled.

Tankawun laughed musically, "It is… hmm… the reflection you see in still waters. I forgot to give it back to the Yengeese family."

They lay back onto their animal hides and for the remainder of the night watched the firelight reflect off the broken shard of mirror and dance around them.

* * *

The day dawned early and vividly optimistic as Stephen's eyes fluttered opened. He awoke confused and disoriented, but above all else discomfited. Every joint throbbed painfully.

_Oh yes, now I remember_… He regarded Anicus curiously as the young man was looking down upon the dusty planks that made up the floor, unblinking in his reverie. He looked as if the ground held all the answers he so desperately sought.

"Good mornin' , there…" Stephen whispered and the copper-skinned youth only grunted, eyes still downcast. He couldn't help it, Stephen chuckled at the other boy's almost sulky and infantile expression. He remembered their other cellmate.

"Alice!" Stephen jerked his head around the room until he found the waif-like form of his friend standing before the far wall, craning her neck up. The tiny window opening was much too high up (it was a make shift holding cell, after all), she could only stand there with her head tilted back, letting the tiny shafts of sunbeams turn her flaxen hair almost white.

"Good mornin', Miss Alice," Stephen said cheerfully, trying not to look concerned at the girl's peculiar position.

"Good morning, boys." Alice's voice was soft and she sounded tired.

"When did you awaken?" Stephen asked conversationally, as if they were still in their homes in the Delaware Valley.

"I am afraid I did not sleep. I was trying to see the sunrise but the window is too high."

Her voice sounded so distant that Stephen became concerned. He fidgeted-

"My head itches. Also my face. Will you scratch it for me, Alice? I reckon I'm a little tied down at the moment," Stephen's voice was merry and he jingled his chains for good measure, hoping the joke would make her happy.

"I suppose," Alice replied at length but was smiling when she turned to walk towards the boys, dragging the chains behind her.

"How are you, Anicus?" Alice inquired as she scratched Stephen's scalp and face while he sighed happily.

The Lenape boy shrugged, looking downtrodden. Alice studied him closely, noting his buckskin pants and teal-colored calico shirt were ripped and dirty. Alice sat down to the side of Stephen and the two held hands for several moments.

"Can you only imagine how worried our families must be, Stephen?" Alice mumbled against Stephen shoulder. She studied the tiny window idly until the door opened again for the first time since the previous night. The inhabitants blinked blearily up.

The man named Edward Lamberth grinned cheekily down at them as he leaned on his rifle, his uniform glaringly red.

"Oh, awake! Good morning to you all, Miss Alice, Mr. Mason… him." Edward's face distorted in distaste as he studied Anicus odiously. His sniffed as if there was something foul in the room. Alice frowned.

"You did not give us enough provisions last night, sir," Alice said coldly, "The three of us had to share the meager portion that was allotted to me. If you would be so kind-"

"I just came to tell you your breakfast will be brought to you shortly," Edward interrupted, cutting his dark eyes at her with a glare, "and around noon you will meet with the General. Anything else, girl?"

Alice tapped her feet petulantly while she continued to glower at the uncouth man. The boys remained carefully silent.

"These conditions are deplorable, Mr. Lamberth."

Edward cocked his head to the side and smiled at her, "Are you being mistreated in any way? Have we beaten any of you?"

Alice looked down at the dusty ground. No, she supposed they were not being mistreated too very much but their surroundings were extremely grimy and they had no proper chairs. She told the man this, causing him to chuckle heartily.

"Forgive me, Your Grace!" the man said with exaggerated decorousness, "I shall write to St. James's Palace immediately to have your household shipped."

He gave another peel of laughter at her insulted expression and walked back towards the door. He turned abruptly at the last moment-

"I almost forgot, Miss Alice." Edwards smirk was still there but there was a harshness to his brows and mouth now. "Some people came looking for you lot."

"When?" asked Stephen keenly, sitting up with a wince but the soldier ignored him.

"They came last night and bloody demanded an audience with the General who was not even at the fort. Their names…" Edward struggled to recall, "Nathaniel, that one who looks like he is part heathen, also a Stewart. This pair of older Indians and also one more lad."

"Who?" asked Alice avidly, but she could feel a shiver course through her; it was something that she had began experiencing months before. Whenever Uncas was near or whenever he was about to be brought into the conversation, her entire body was somehow aware of it.

"You know who," Edward lowered his voice to a beguiling whisper, "that Indian you took as your lover."

Stephen now spoke up, his eyes torrid with self-righteous anger, "You may be a soldier, Mr. Lamberth, but you aint a real man to speak to a lady in such a way."

"Shut your mouth, little toad. If you were a true man you would tell her not to sully herself or her father's name with a savage," Edward's voice was loud and hostile, "and be ready by noon. You lot are meeting with General Waddell."

Just then a girl around Alice's age walked timidly behind Edward, hey eyes sympathetic and holding a pot of what seemed to be porridge. Edward took it from her hands and nodded to her stiffly.

The pot was set down hard on the ground before the three and bits of the mealy porridge sloshed out from the sides. It did not look very appetizing and this must have reflected in her gaze because Edward Lamberth rolled his eyes dourly at Alice and walked out of the cell without a backwards glance, stepping around the girl.

"The Duchess disdains the food we serve here, Millie," Edward said scornfully as the door was shut, his voice could still be heard faintly, "remember to shut and bolt the door."

"I reckon he don't like us," Stephen stared at the cold mush in the pot in disgust and recalled how this man consistently called him 'freckled toad' and such.

"But especially you, Alice."

Alice did not pay this observation any mind as she was eyeing the other female acutely. The girl named Millie wore a pale lilac dress that was very worn, her face behind her dark hair was tired. She was rather plain, but it could be due to fatigue. She looked timid and embarrassed at everything Edward Lamberth had said. Her eyes held something that Alice recognized, but she could not place it.

"Thank you for your kindness, Miss Millie," Alice said smoothly with what she prayed was a warm smile, "for delivering us this much needed sustenance. I shall endeavor to repay you for your hospitality and benevolence."

"My name is Amelia," the girl explained with a blush at the polite words of praise, "you may call me Millie."

"I shall be sure to," Alice continued thoughtfully watching Amelia as the brown-haired girl scurried out. The lock gave a small snick as they were again locked in.

* * *

Thank you all for your patience and thank you for reading. I understand many of you are anxious for more Uncas/Alice scenes, and that will begin to occur in the next chapter. I have to keep true to the pace of the story, guys, also set the tone and such. Isaac Bauman is very tricky to get down, I had to redo his scenes a few times. I have started school again but I will try to update regularly; chapter 19 is mostly finished. Please R&R and thank Departed.

P.S- To all the die-hard LOTM fans, please be aware that Michael Mann is releasing a definitive director's cut blu-ray edition I believe in October of this year, you can already pre-order through amazon. It's obviously all about the money for him but let's all hope he is including the deleted Alice/Uncas scenes! Who's with me?


	19. Chapter 19

_ChapterNineteen_

_

* * *

_"I will ask you yet _again_, are you presentable enough to leave?" the voice of the odious Edward Lamberth called through the bulky timber door. He sounded impatient.

Around ten minutes before, red-clad soldiers had opened the door of the holding cell and hauled the two boys out into the corridor to wait, still shackled. Edward had entered and carelessly set a basin of water by Alice.

"Make yourself presentable, Miss, you are to meet the General." The dark-eyed man had held that scornful look again before he had sauntered out.

The door was yanked open now as Edward peered inside with a frown, just as Alice was drying her dripping hands on her skirts and patting her face on her forearms.

"Are you trying to make yourself pretty for that spawn of Satan? I do not see why you would take such pains."

Alice had had enough of his boorish behavior and sought to insult him in the same way he was doing to her.

"Why on earth would I bother grooming myself for the lowly commandant of such ill-mannered foot soldiers?" Alice asked as she crossed her arms over her chest, kicking her feet on the ground petulantly.

Edward Lamberth's eyes narrowed to slits as he took two steps towards her.

"I appreciate the irony in your words, Miss. But I am not some low-born 'foot soldier' as you allude."

"I make no allusions, sir," Alice fired back, "and if you are not so expendable why have you been assigned the task of looking after a chained woman locked in a pesthole? Perhaps because you are viewed as exceedingly second-rate."

"You throw these harsh words at me, girl, but you are below anyone I can even imagine. Below the man shackled in the other corridor who shot his brother to death over a land dispute, and he will swing in the courtyard for that horrific deed. Worse even than the camp-follower sentenced to one hundred lashes for spreading her pestilence. She is only two doors down."

Alice was stung by these words, but Edward spoke on when he noticed she was of a mind to disagree.

"They at least would never dream of committing the unnatural act of turning against their own kind and forever tainting their blood. Have you thought of what will happen if you were to procreate with him? Condemning them to be little half-breeds which is worse than being a savage."

Alice was speechless, her blue eyes wide pools of horror. This was something that had scarcely crossed her mind. The thought of bearing children, of course, was something she had looked forward once she was a wife. She had thought of how happy she and Uncas would be in their cabin with a growing family. She realized now that she had purposely avoided such dark thoughts, that in her tailored fantasies involving Uncas and any children she had not once imagined the world of whites or having to publicly defend herself and her choice.

She thought desperately of Nathaniel who claimed the Mohican race more than he ever would the European world and was proud to have a father such as Chingachgook….. _But_, a traitorous voice whispered in the back of her mind, _Nathaniel will always be white regardless of his upbringing. _

Amelia Warren walked timidly in, drawn by the elevated voices. Her gaze on Edward was diffident but there was no denying the reproach in her tone. "Mr. Lamberth, it would be best for you to lower your voice. You are speaking to a lady."

Edward cut his eyes at the girl with a glare, "Hardly. And it is my wish for you to stay out of my affairs, Millie. Go back to tending to the laundry." That said he steered her out by the shoulder, his hand lingering on her waist as she left. Alice's eyes narrowed at this bit of impropriety.

Edward Lamberth appeared satisfied with himself upon seeing the stricken look on her face, "Now hurry yourself, the General and your illustrious fiancé await."

Stephen, standing by Anicus outside heard a muffled swear and a crash, followed by the unmistakable voice of Edward Lamberth shouting himself hoarse as the soldiers ran into the holding cell. Stephen and Anicus stared at each other, eyes wide and ingenuous, before Stephen smiled to himself, "Good girl, Alice."

Anicus cocked his head to the side. The correct word popped into Stephen's mind.

"_Wishi." _Good. Anicus smiled at Stephen for the first time since they had met.

* * *

The costly rosewood chair creaked dangerously as General Waddell sat down with a mighty oath and heave. His scarlet uniform was meticulously pressed and adorned with gold braiding. Isaac wondered how his buttons did not manage to fly off his rotund belly and shatter the window panes.

That was another thing, Isaac's eyes flicked quickly to the expensive glass panes that General Waddell had been insistent on purchasing with crown funding for his main quarters. It would be a stretch to claim that Isaac held much in the way of respect for this pompous General whom everyday reminded Isaac more and more of Emperor Nero. All that was missing was the man's backside on a gleaming golden throne, strumming a lyre.

"Did you find anything in your sweeps?" Waddell asked carelessly as he sorted through the correspondence before him as he sat, not even glancing up at Isaac.

Isaac straightened, his face emotionless, "No, sir. We had heard reports of Iroquois raiders as well as French and Ottawa alliances but that appears to have stayed in the north. Per your request we-"

"Yes, yes," the large man waved a fat hand through the air and tossed his head forward, making his chin disappear into his fleshy neck, "just make sure it is duly noted in my ledger. Tell me of the new prisoners, there is a young lady, I have heard?"

Isaac ground his teeth and looked down to prevent the General from seeing the frustration on his face. _Damn it, Edward. _Who else would it be? Sometimes that boy reminded him of a clucking hen with his gossiping. Waddell had been back scarcely 15 minutes!

"Indeed, sir. There are three presently detained from the Delaware Valley. A country bumpkin named Mason, a Lenape Indian lad from the eastern camp-"

"Why on earth would you arrest one of them?" Waddell blustered at once as he dropped several sheaths of parchment, "are you not aware of what the repercussions can be?"

"Sir- Respectfully, the lad accosted white civilians very near the homesteads and away from Lenape territory. He was obviously up to some mischief. When I came upon them the young men were thrashing and wrestling and two young ladies, a white and Indian girl were attempting to intervene."

General Waddell seemed to consider this as he leaned back, pulling his red coat on tighter. Isaac watched with mild interest; he half expected the chair to splinter and break with the weight, sending his General's feet flying up.

"Wine, please!" he called out and Isaac picked up a jug of the fruity, fermented beverage and poured it into a goblet.

"Madeira, sir," the younger man offered the goblet up whilst trying to suppress a grimace at this other ostentatious flair the General had. Shipping brandy-fortified wine across the ocean while the rest of them settled on watery ale and the cheaper spirits.

Philip Waddell relished the wine and smacked his lips as he thought over what Isaac had said.

"From where was this shipped?" Waddell asked, peering into the vessel contents.

Isaac did not feel like scurrying off to research this and so he invented a plausible answer, "From an area of southern Madeira, sir, known for its incredibly arid land and white grapes. This gives your wine its distinctive dry taste without being too bitter."

"Are they young?" Waddell asked after a few more moments of quiescence. Isaac assumed the man did not mean the hypothetical grapes.

"They are. I would imagine that they are all below twenty years of age."

"Hmm… This entire affair is so tedious and vexing, I have also heard their families have come to demand their release. If those bothersome Indians have sent petitioners on the boy's behalf-" Waddell broke off with a hefty sigh and downed the remains of his wine.

"Why is Lamberth so interested in that silly girl? What is her name?" he fixed Isaac with a dull, bulbous stare that reminded Isaac of dead fish floating to the surface. Ah, now they had reached the snag.

Isaac chose his words as carefully as possible.

"Her name is Alice Munro, she is from London, sir. Her father was Colonel Edmund Munro. He fell during the massacre at William Henry, some of the survivors of his slaughtered regiment made it here on foot. This was the past year, of course. Before you joined our ranks, sir."

Waddell looked mildly impressed at Alice's parentage and made a vague statement about remembering the late colonel and what a pity it was.

"But why is Lamberth so interested in her and so… disapproving? He bade me ask you the pertinent details."

Edward hesitated just long enough for the General's eyes to sharpen and he leaned forward, like a bloated bloodhound who had caught the faint scent of human prey. Isaac was surprised the portly bastard was not salivating, nothing thrilled him like scandal and intrigue.

"Out with it!"

"Her choice in mate is what has _certain _people listening to blather," the slight jab was lost on Philip Waddell, he only nodded impatiently and so Isaac continued, "mostly because of her upper class upbringing and her father was such a respected colonel-"

"Why do you delight in provoking me, man? What is the fuss with her?" he slammed a hammy fist onto the table and made the silver goblet shudder.

"The fuss is that she is betrothed to an Indian."

There was a sudden acute silence as the two men stared at each other. To his credit, the General did not giggle like a schoolgirl as he was prone to do whenever he heard something deliciously scandalous.

"That- No, that cannot be, sir. You boys are mistaken." But Isaac shook his head. He had wanted to relate this information to the General himself instead of that meddlesome blather-mouth Edward because he knew the other man would sensationalize the entire description. He had already heard from a worried Amelia Warren how Edward was being shockingly rude to Miss Alice.

"I wish I were mistaken, but I am certain of the facts. She says so herself. Now I admit I am not sure of what Edward Lamberth has told you but the one concern I have is that Miss Alice is entirely unaware of her actions or the consequences. Steeped as she was in her grief for her father's passing as well as the trauma of surviving such barbarity, she was understandably confused and susceptible. Then she met this… this Indian fellow…"

Waddell was nodding to himself as he stared at the far wall that was brightly lit with the noon-day sky. "Yes, of course, he must have preyed upon the poor lass in her fragile state. Promised her sweet things and given her a false sense of security. Is the Indian lad here?"

"Yes, sir. Here with his family to reclaim the others as well as his bride."

Now the older man did succumb to laughter. Edward watched stoically as his General and the leader of so many men laughed uproariously until he had to gasp for air, finally ending in the shrill giggling that Edward so loathed.

"Is that so? They march into my fort, bold as brass, to demand the release of my prisoners? Well I have the fort and I have the men at arms- You know what, Mr. Bauman, send the girl in. _Now_. Get her!"

Isaac turned around hiding his grimace as his superior officer's face turned a mottled red. He knew the three prisoners were still waiting in their holding cell. He would wait five minutes before bringing Alice Munro into the General's quarters; it would give the bovine man time to cease his childish tantrum.

Isaac closed the door behind him and leaned against it, smoothing his dark hair and adjusting the cuffs and sleeves on his uniform. He waited, faintly humming a tune he had heard years ago in a Cornwall festival. He counted the minutes that ticked by mentally as he thought of black haired gypsies in a county fair.

With a sigh Isaac stood straighter and made sure he looked presentable before he walked down the long corridor made of roughly hewn planks of wood. He came across several benches under an open window and, lo and behold, the Indians and the Scotsman from the previous night were sitting there, waiting. The young men in the group rose quickly.

Isaac shook his head angrily, his day was not proceeding as planned. If he brought Miss Alice to the General she would pass by this group here, which would surely agitate them all. He noticed they all looked slightly disheveled, as if they had camped out in the woodland.

"Mr. Bauman," the tall Scottish man twisted his hat around his hands, "you asked us to come by 'round noon to speak with your General. We were told to wait, may we _please _see the man?"

Isaac noted the supplication in Stewart's voice and felt a twinge of sympathy, though he carefully avoided looking in the direction of that Indian who had ensnared Miss Alice.

"General Waddell is, in fact, at the fort as we speak- Be quiet, Poe- but I must entreat you to be patient for just a short while longer. There is one more pressing matter I must attend to and then I shall take you to him. Please do me the courtesy of waiting outside the fort until you are called." To complete the effect Isaac's mouth twitched into what barely counted as a smile, more like a grimace. But it seemed to calm them all, with the notable exception of that irritating Nathaniel Poe.

Walking briskly to the right and away from the group, Isaac silently mouthed every swear word he could think of, except for the truly vile ones as he was a gentleman. He yanked open the door and stared inside, his sullen expression becoming bemused and quizzical.

The three prisoners were sitting together, all of them, including the Lenape lad wore expressions ranging from angered to extreme unhappiness. He noticed Edward then looking furious and… wet?

"Good God, man, change into appropriate attire, the General is here!" he said quickly and Edward reddened, then- "Why is Miss Alice chained so? I already told you only her feet will suffice."

Edward Lamberth reared up like a dragon from a Norse myth, "She emptied a basin of water on me!"

Isaac looked quickly to the girl in question who was looking downward, her eyes red-rimmed and anguished. Isaac felt something in his gut tug. She was so begrimed and downtrodden.

"Why?" was Isaac's only question but he could already imagine the reason. There was a meaningful silence and Isaac made a mental point to have Lamberth on watch for the next few days; true men did not verbally accost ladies.

"Miss Alice, if you please." Isaac gestured with his left hand. Alice looked up, her face expressionless.

"I am not leaving without my friends."

Isaac hid a sardonic smile, "Lass, I appreciate the noble sentiment, but if you are going to martyr yourself make sure if is for a righteous cause. Not these dolts."

"They are not dolts to me," Alice mumbled.

"Get up, Miss Alice," Isaac was growing impatient, "we are going to see General Waddell and getting this sorted out today."

Alice stood gracefully and shook her skirts with her chained hands, her back very straight and her chin up. It spoke volumes of her upbringing. Most likely a ladies finishing school for etiquette, or a governess that taught her from home.

"Unshackle her, lads." Isaac regarded Alice seriously as his demand was met, "You are expected, Miss. Come along."

They walked out into the corridor together, Alice sparing a glance behind her at the boys she was leaving behind.

* * *

Alice shivered slightly as she stood before the imposing men in the General's quarter's. They were imposing in such different aspects, the General himself was much larger than Mr. Bauman and came with the added authority. It was he who would make the final decision of her release and that of the boys. Isaac was a leaner, taller man of a young age- Perhaps 25?- but he carried himself with a very precise air and there was an aloofness to him that was most worrying. She had yet to see him smile.

General Waddell still cut an elegant figure (no matter how corpulent) in his impeccable attire and freshly powdered wig. It was strange that she felt slightly at ease with his demeanor as he represented so much of her old life. Her father had most likely known him, and Alice began to formulate a speech on the spot. She was robbed of the chance, however, because the General spoke before her.

"I trust you have been treated well, Miss Alice?" the older man blustered as he braced himself on the arms of his chair and lumbered to his feet. "These events have been most unfortunate, indeed."

Alice licked her parched lips as her eyes darted around the perimeter of the room. Isaac studied her with his face mask-like, both hands clasped behind his back.

"What was that ruckus about, girl? Why did you attack one of my soldiers?" Waddell's eyes looked greedily interested as he posed this question.

"He was most ill-mannered, sir. Forgive my impetuosity, but his language was uncouth and impertinent." Alice replied thus. Her hands began to feel clammy.

"What did he say that so angered you?"

Alice looked instinctively at Isaac as she did not know how to answer. He tilted his head to the side a fraction but maintained his silence.

"A young lady of your upbringing should not dream of committing such an impudent display of incivility, Miss." the General walked around his desk, causing the floorboards to creak loudly. For some reason Alice found the noise jarring and she took a steady breath. She was succumbing to panic, she could feel it.

General Waddell leaned back slightly against his desk, facing her.

"Mr. Bauman, fetch a chair for this young lady." Waddell suddenly barked, still eyeing her.

Once the young man departed and she and the older man were alone, Alice said nothing; she only eyed the floor with uncommon interest.

"Wine, my dear?"

Alice's face shot up as she stuttered a reply, "I… why yes, wine would be lovely, sir. Thank you."

Waddell bustled over to a jug and poured the opaque liquid into a goblet, then poured hers into a smaller twist-stem wine glass. He handed it to her and Alice sniffed it cautiously before taking a small sip.

"Madeira," she murmured, and thanked him in appreciation. She could taste the brandy for which the wine was famous, it made the wine good for years as opposed to a more typical wine or sherry.

The brandy strengthened its potency and it fortified her nerves. Alice continued sipping casually until Isaac returned with a hefty wood chair which he placed behind her, bidding her be seated.

Alice sat demurely. Nothing more was said for several more minutes, until-

"That Indian lad is here looking for you."

Alice choked and spluttered the wine out, coughing loudly until her eyes streamed. Isaac raised an eyebrow, he took the glass from her unsteady grip and strode to a corner. After filling a tankard anew he pressed it into her hands and insisted she drink.

Water. Alice gulped it down. Sneaking a peak at Waddell Alice noticed the man continued to smile pleasantly at her, as if nothing out of the ordinary had occurred. The seconds continued to roll by as the two locked eyes.

"Where is he now?" Alice overcame her initial shock, "He must be so worried! Please, I must speak with him. Let us go, it has been sorted out. We will never trouble you again, sir."

General Waddell seemed to ruminate her words but then slowly shook his head. His tone was becoming colder.

"How you lost the wits God gave you? Why on earth would you dally with that… that _heathen?_ You cannot possibly fathom how you have dashed your reputation upon the rocks with this foolishness."

"I beg your pardon, sir," Alice replied in a low voice, "and I thank you for your concern but I know my heart and I know my actions. You speak of heathens, but the Europeans commit the same dastardly deeds in the name of war."

General Waddell looked abased and outraged at this, he huffed and shook his head whilst scowling at her.

"I cannot credit what I am hearing. What would your father say if he were alive?"

The words hurt Alice like what she imagined a knife to the gut would. She knew the answer; it was precisely because her father had passed that Alice could live with Uncas and marry. If Col. Munro had survived he would have commanded his entire army to look for her, and when found most likely he would have tied her and thrown her on a ship bound for England. He would never have let her live peacefully with Uncas.

Yet this was something she would not say aloud. It was imperative that she not stray from her convictions.

"My father valued the well-being and happiness of his children above all else. He would have understood." Alice said this in a cool tone.

Isaac shook his head, his mouth a thin line. Alice continued.

"There is difference between what is right and what is expected. I no longer wish to forsake my own happiness for the sake of appearance."

The men looked at her as if she had grown another head, there was such a lack of comprehension in their shocked faces that it was comical. In truth, Alice did not blame them. If someone had told her in England that she would one day lose her fortune and her family, that she would fall in love with a red man of the Americas, she would have laughed.

"I suppose you will settle with abject poverty?" Waddell said in a whispered fury, "You will have no qualms with scratching out an existence from the soil; a farmer, then, will you be? Will you be so content when he decides to slap you like some tavern wench?"

"Uncas- He would _never_-" Alice changed tack, "you have no legal reason to keep me here, sir. I know the laws of England have been brought to the colonies. You have me unlawfully detained. I have committed no crime, sir. Even if I had, it would have to be dealt with the sheriff or a constable."

The General now looked shocked- he was a fool for failing to recall she was the daughter of a colonel in the British army. She knew the laws of the land.

"That may very well be, lass," Waddell countered quickly, "but there are, in fact, laws against this travesty you are considering."

"What do you refer to, sir?"

"Races cannot mix in marriage, Miss. Or procreate. Even if that lad were a Christian, it would be unlawful for a preacher to even officiate a wedding ceremony."

"I have not heard of any such impediment, sir." Alice leaned back and attempted to keep her composure; she was certain he was misleading her.

"The law was first enacted in the year of our Lord 1660, in an effort to regulate marriage and curtail the mixing of blood that was occurring at the time," the fat man rattled this off quickly, "it declared that no marriage could occur between a white and a slave or indentured servant-"

"But he is neither!"

"The law was changed not much later to include any mulatto or Indian." Waddell went on without acknowledging her. He paused for breath. "As brilliant as you perceive yourself to be in regards to the nature of law and civic rights, you did not catch that one, did you?"

Alice felt cornered, yet there still existed one detail that remained to be said.

"I will be not be breaking any law, then, sirs." Alice sat up straighter, suppressing the tremor that would steal her words, "I will not marry him in any religious ceremony."

General Waddell's face turned a deep plum color as he spluttered, his small eyes transfixed on her face in horror. "I do not believe that-"

A sharp rap on the door stole whatever comments the General had in mind to say.

"Enter!" Waddell ordered imperiously, still eyeing Alice with fascination and revolt.

The door opened with a shuddering creak and Amelia Warren peered inside. Se looked nervous.

"What is it, Miss Amelia? I am occupied at the moment!" the General barked.

"I beg your pardon, sir. A group of men request to speak with you. They say they have been waiting since yesterday…" the girl glance unconsciously at Alice, "whites and Indians, sir."

Alice straightened and looked around at Waddell and Isaac. The younger man wore a scowl as he retorted that he had explicitly told the group to wait until they were called. Waddell cocked his head to the side and looked pensively at the young laundress. Alice could sense he was weighing his options.

"Send them in."

"Sir-?" Isaac looked troubled and looked about ready to argue, but a stern look from his colossal General silenced him.

Alice's eyes were large and anxious as the young lady went off to do her commander's bidding. She again caught the gaze of Waddell; his eyes glittered with rage and contempt and Alice felt something in her stomach twist.

* * *

The girl returned from speaking to General Waddell and the men looked up cautiously. She had said her name was Miss Amelia, she was of a very slight stature and frame and looked young and malnourished. She seemed perpetually nervous as a field-mouse and could not be older than 18 summers.

Uncas kept his face stoic and impassive, just as his father and Hopocan. It always seemed to make the white men nervous.

He knew Alice was in the quarters before them with General Waddell. He knew because traces of her lingered everywhere in this corridor. Alice's scent was still in the air; Uncas cherished a hope that his prowess as a hunter was unfailingly accurate and fine-tuned. This was more certitude to him than vanity. He filled his lungs to the very brim with the fading scent of Alice's sweet soap. Floral, gentle and soft- Just like her. Lavender? Alice continued to make the rough, ashy soap with the Stewarts but she also added herbs and flowers. Alice Munro was now a frontier woman, a hardworking farm laborer like any man…. yet she was also still such a lady.

These were the thoughts coursing through Uncas's mind as the nervous young girl bid them all enter.

For all his stoicism and purposeful lack of expression, Uncas felt his heart almost seize in his chest once they had piled into the room and he saw Alice stand quickly, craning her neck around to properly view them. Her eyes were huge.

Alice did not look unwell, more than anything she was fatigued and frightened. They looked at each other for a long moment and Uncas noticed the gestures she made out of nerves and sheer habit. She bunched her hands into her skirts into tight fists, scrubbed her palms against her cheeks, tucked a loose strand of yellow hair behind her ear.

"Alice!" called James anxiously, taking a step towards her. He was immediately blocked by the more hard-faced Isaac Bauman.

"I thought I told you lot to wait outside!" the man muttered fiercely, "we are in the process of discussing details of a somewhat delicate nature with Miss Alice. Stand away from her." Isaac looked at Uncas as he said this, his expression painted with dislike and Uncas understood. They knew the truth about them, that Alice was to be his wife.

"Are you alright, Alice?" Uncas asked calmly, "you are being treated well?"

"Of course she is!" the fat General plodded to his feet and towards them all. He paused and stepped back. "You are… her betrothed?" he said the words as if there were some foul taste in his mouth.

Uncas opened his mouth to speak but was cut short.

"Yes. Yes, he is." Alice glared at the redcoats openly. Nathaniel exchanged glances with Uncas and James. He looked taken aback and impressed with her pluck.

"This is, indeed, a problem." Waddell planted his meaty palms onto his desk, his eyes darting between them all.

"This girl here states she has a mind to marry you, sir." Waddell snapped this suddenly. Uncas held the older man's gaze, though he had heard it was considered rude among the English.

"It is true. She is to be my wife."

"Ah. When, may I ask?"

"Soon. Our home was finished. As soon as we leave this place." Uncas looked at Alice and she smiled at him, her eyes light with the news that their home was completed. Uncas looked at Hopocan and introduced him as Anicus' father. Chingachgook spoke up then, explaining that they were here as part of a delegation from the Lenni Lenape tribe on behalf of the Indian boy that was detained here. The next step would be speaking to the governor. Waddell had not anticipated this and looked troubled.

"Indeed I do not wish to have the governor intercede in this minute affair-"

The door creaked open and Edward Lamberth strode in, passing by a bemused and curious Millie Warren who was still by the door. Edward had his chest puffed out as one who knew he was making an important announcement. He stopped before the General and glared daggers at Nathaniel. Uncas felt a rush of intuition and carefully took small steps towards his brother.

"Sir," declared Edward pompously, "I have news pertaining to a certain gentleman in this room."

"What do you speak of, Lamberth?" inquired Waddell, his paunchy fingers lazily checking the buttons on his red coat.

"That man there, the savage's supposed brother, is a traitor and is wanted for desertion!" Edward said this in ringing tones and indeed, the inhabitants were so stunned that the last words seemed to echo within the walls.

"No..." Alice whimpered weakly, shaking her head.

General Waddell stood straighter and his voice boomed. "Mr. Lamberth, that it a very serious accusation, indeed. You had best have some type of evidence, as I will not tolerate hearsay!"

"It is true, sir!" Edward Lamberth said plaintively, "Nathaniel Poe was sentenced to hang for sedition and desertion. The order had gone out for him to be recaptured and held in any English fort until he can be executed for his crimes."

Nathaniel growled, "I would place a wager that your spineless tail would not be makin' such a claim, if not surrounded by soldiers who outrank you."

Uncas looked around, wishing he had his weapons that they had been forced to surrender before speaking to the General. At the very least a hatchet to claim the scalp of the sniveling fool before them, who was outing his brother with a happy grin. There was no escape. They were surrounded by Yengeese soldiers, in the heart of a fort. Uncas looked up at the fort commander who was speaking again, his face cautious.

"Young man," he addressed Nathaniel, "legally I have the right to detain you here until this information can be verified. For the sake of efficiency, let us abstain from delaying the inevitable. Are you the man in question, Nathaniel Poe?"

James was beside himself with anger, "Mr. Lamberth is nothing more than a _rat_ that saunters about on two legs-"

"Calm yourself, sir." Waddell frowned.

Alice noticed Isaac had gone very still during the exchange, but she did not pay this any heed.

"If there is any justice in this world, one day someone will put a bullet in his black heart…" she paused for breath, "and it would serve him right!"

"I see you wish to finish the conversation we had this morning, Miss." Edward answered back angrily. "Your lack of decorum should come as no surprise considering how you consort with savages and traitors."

Everyone spoke up at that moment save two people, Isaac and Uncas, and Uncas watched the Englishman named Bauman who continued to maintain his studied silence.

"Enough!" Waddell roared, he called forth two more soldiers who arrested Nathaniel immediately. Anicus and Stephen were to be released but not Alice, not yet, the General decreed.

"I have to ponder this at length. If Miss Alice knew the truth of Nathaniel Poe it means she was knowingly harboring a wanted criminal." With that Waddell ordered for everyone to leave and Uncas turned to see the door slam in his face.

"Make no mistake, we will not leave." James whispered furiously to the others. Uncas watched as Nathaniel was taken in one direction, Alice in another.

* * *

Her arms were cramped with the weight of bearing heavy loads of stained and soiled bed sheets. Amelia Warren hefted them higher as she tried to maneuver around the doorway which led outdoors. She needed to wash the prisoner's sheets and then hang them to dry. If truth be told, General Waddell had mandated the sheets only be washed monthly. Millie took it upon herself to wash them every fortnight; it was the custom in every respectable household and Fort Letort should be no different.

_Besides, _she reasoned, _just because they are prisoners does not mean they deserve to be eaten alive by fleas and lay in their filth. _

Millie rounded the corner and almost bumped into Edward Lamberth- she could not help but notice he wore a very self-satisfied smirk.

"Hello, sweetheart. I have missed you so..." he whispered as he tried to snake his arms around Millie's waist. Amelia looked into his eyes and could see precisely what it was he was pining for. She looked quickly around and edged away from him.

"It- I have to launder now and finish cleaning the quarters, Edward." Amelia said in a low voice, attempting to side-step the dark-haired man.

"Later," he insisted, stopping her with a hand on her load of laundry. Millie leaned back cautiously and Edward frowned, dropping his hand.

"What? What is it, girl?"

"Edward, leave me be…" Millie whispered, looking around for any peeking individuals. General Waddell was extremely strict with the code of conduct in his fort and forbade any "licentious exchanges" between the soldiers and females. The General was of the older generation and very straight-laced. _He would put me out and lash Edward to death, _thought Amelia unhappily.

Millie continued to scrutinize Edward Lamberth uncertainly. She had been a simple girl from the nearby town when her mother had sent her to work at Fort Letort two years before; by then war had already broken out between France and England and the typically defunct fort was then inhabited by soldiers. Millie had been a shy 16 year old and had met Edward here. He had pursued her with such determination but secretly, of course. It was a long time ago now that he had won her heart and promised her marriage.

Yet this had not come to pass. No more words of matrimony, not even a hint of it, and still he continued to…to expect… _things…._

"Licentious exchanges.." Millie whispered, staring down at the ground.

"What?" Edward snapped, his eyebrows set in a straight line as he glowered at Millie. That was something else entirely- when had Edward become so cruel? Had she been so foolish and smitten that it had passed her by? At times he seemed to delight in seeing misery in others, the executions and whippings did not bother him though they made Millie ill. He did not care a fig for others… just as tonight he had smiled guilelessly at Mr. Nathaniel Poe while handing him over to a certain death. Edward always gave that dimpled smirk when going for the kill.

"Nothing," Millie sighed; the load of sheets was becoming heavy and she switched to use her other arm. Edward turned to stalk away when a thought struck the young woman.

"Edward!" she called, setting the basket of sheets to the ground and running lightly after him.

"What do you want, Millie?" Edward looked bored and disinterested now that he would not be able to conduct a rendezvous with the 18 year old girl.

Amelia took a deep breath, "How did you… find out about Mr. Poe's desertion from Ft. William Henry?"

Edward gave his cat-like grin, cocking his head to the side. Millie smiled tentatively.

"I searched the General's correspondence."

Millie thought she had heard wrong as she blinked up at Edward. "You-?"

The soldier gave a sturdy nod, "Indeed, I did. Waddell hardly pays attention to the reports he receives, which he should in the first place. I think it prudent to know the comings and goings of these forts. I have been intercepting the correspondence between Waddell and Webb of Fort Edward."

Millie still could not trust herself to speak- Edward was committing a serious breach in protocol. At her look of stupefaction Edward gave a snort and an eye roll, as if he found her to be exceedingly dull.

"Millie," he explained in a contrived tone of forced patience, " how else am I to ascend the slippery ropes of the military? I have to use my wits. Look at that fat bastard Waddell, born into a military family, yet even a green girl in a schoolhouse has more brains than he does. By far!" He reached down and picked up the basket of sheets and placed it into her limp hands.

"What is more," he continued his rant, "the Generals Webb and Pritchard, they are country gentry and they think they are so above us mere mortals. I have to keep in the good graces of men on high, Millie, and it does not matter what I must do."

"But Edward, if General Waddell finds out you went through his private documents…"

Edward suddenly loomed over her and clasped her bare forearm in an vice-like grip, staring hard at the petrified girl. He lowered his head until he was about nose level to her. "You will not say anything, Millie, am I correct in this assumption?"

Millie nodded frantically, trying impossibly to wriggle out of his constraining clutch. He was hurting her…

"Well. It would be most unwise to speak of this to anyone, Amelia." Edward smiled widely and released her arm. "Although I know you would not do so…. you will be the healthier for it."

Amelia rubbed her smarting flesh and lifted the basket higher without a word, watching as he walked away with a carefree smile. Millie looked her arm wordlessly, it was bright red and she knew it would develop into bruises before nightfall.

* * *

Alice squeezed her eyes shut tightly.

She could feel the thrumming pulse within her, the thud of her heart beating rapidly from within. She breathed in deeply and expelled the air for several moments. Alice could feel everything in her surroundings so acutely that she dared not move; the sturdiness of the wall to her back, scraping her back slightly; the sweat collecting in her neck and shoulder blades; the roughness of her hands and fingertips from a year of laboring on a farm. Alice's face dipped down into her chest as she fell deeper and deeper into this trance-like state. She recalled moments from her childhood and youth but most especially the crux in her life- Her voyage to the colonies.

"_It will be alright, girl." _Papa, with the stern love he had always shown them. He would come back from military campaigns and perch on the edge of the bed his daughter's shared… always with the tales of glory and distant lands. _I remember now the things he did not say. The memories he tried to forget. The smell of gunpowder and horses. I smelled blood and suffering coming from him. Papa always said our little faces gave him strength during those dark nights. He never dreamed I would one day sit in a cell._

"_My god, you've grown up!" _Had merely ten years passed since she and Duncan had walked through the fields of golden grain in Scotland? Lain on the grass and eaten apples and pears with Cora? Ran foot-races? Duncan, so strong and brave and well-loved by she and Cora. _Duncan always slowed himself in those races, for me. He sought to protect me. What would he have done in this position?_

"_Well, you kind of face to the north- And real sudden like, turn left."_

"_You stay alive, no matter what occurs!" _Everything had been wet and cold… Alice had already felt lifeless, like a tiny drowned sparrow floating gently down a river. _I knew I would die… and yet-_

"_I think you are very beautiful. Also brave." _

Alice squeezed her eyes shut tighter, rubbing her calloused fingers together. The only thing she had longed for was being taken from her, Uncas and a life by his side. Alice had grown into adulthood in a very narrow stretch of time, her life in London felt as if it was a lifetime ago. Alice knew what General Waddell had thought after being presented with the truth regarding Nathaniel's ignominious conduct at William Henry. He knew any connection between Alice with Nathaniel was very flimsy; yes, she had been in contact with him during the year they had lived in the Valley, but it would be a tall order to charge her with any kind of treason. Nobody would convict her, Alice knew this, but intuition told her Waddell was not interested in charging her with harboring a traitor. He needed _time, _he neededto keep Alice at the fort. Because a white girl choosing to settle with a red man was more than the Englishman could fathom or tolerate.

_I have to get out of here, _Alice thought to herself, _I have to escape from this cage. I will not abandon Nathaniel to this cruel fate because he has never abandoned me. But when- how? _

The door opened and Alice felt a presence just as the thought came to her.

_Millie. _

"Miss Alice, I have brought you an early supper." The voice of the girl she had been thinking of echoed softly in the semi-dark room, empty now that Stephen and Anicus had been released. Alice did not answer just yet, she was too occupied formulating a plan and crafting words.

"It is just some mutton and bread. Also water. The lamb is a tad over salted but… " her voice trailed off.

Alice looked up, "Would you please sit with me for a little while, Miss Millie? I find myself so very lonesome."

Amelia stared at Alice, torn. Finally after what seemed to be a furious mental debate the other girl sat carefully opposite Alice. "Only for a moment, Miss, I have many chores."

"Thank you, Miss Millie. You have shown me the utmost kindness and respect, you are a credit to this regiment." Alice began to eat the food delicately; it tasted like ashes in her mouth.

Millie blushed furiously and mumbled an answer. The girls began to speak quietly of their personal lives. Alice learned that Millie had only a mother who depended on her greatly as the poor woman was weakened from bouts of consumption. Her father and two older brother were dead.

"Such tragedy in the life of one so young," Alice murmured sympathetically. Amelia shrugged, looking subdued.

"As for myself, Miss Millie, my own father was taken from me and my elder sister, we also lost our mother many years ago. All I have left is Uncas…"

"The Indian?"

Alice nodded, explaining how Uncas had almost died to save her, how they had overcome seemingly impossible obstacles to be together in peace. Millie looked affected by the sad tale.

"Millie- may I refer to you as such?- well, Millie, I understand you have a close acquaintance with Mr. Lamberth."

The other girl straightened and looked alarmed. After Alice insisted she would keep silent Millie hurriedly said that Edward was not so bad, he had promised her marriage and once this horrid war was finished they would be wed and perhaps sail to England. Alice wondered why Lamberth did not marry her now, it was obvious they were on _very _familiar terms.

"You say he is a good man," Alice said carefully, nibbling on a piece of bread and trying to avoid blurting out that the man had the manners of a goat, "you know him very well. But imagine the man you loved was forcibly taken from you, and a dear friend of yours sentenced to hang. You and I are not so different, Millie, because we are women living in the world of men. Tell me, at what point would you finally decide to fight for yourself and your loved one's and your own happiness? Would you not do up to the impossible?"

Amelia stood up suddenly and Alice spoke as quickly as she could, "Please, Amelia! Help me… you know in your heart what is happening here is wrong. Think on this, will you not?" Alice pleaded with her eyes, "that is all I ask."

Millie Warren paused as she reached the door, her thin, pale hand resting momentarily on the doorknob.

"I will think on it," was her whispered reply.

* * *

Sorry this took so long, I was busy with midterms. I hope to have Chap 20 up before my finals are in. So, what I did was combine Chapters 19 & 20 to keep the plot going. I had to take out scenes with other secondary characters. I hope you like this so far. Chap 20 is on the way.


	20. Chapter 20

_ChapterTwenty_

* * *

The American day was at its peak, thought Isaac Bauman as he casually strode outside the barracks, deep in thought; he needed to clear his head. Isaac glanced up at the sky that was a clear opaque blue. As the afternoon ebbed it would meld into soft coral pink with a midnight hue as the evening approached.

He inhaled deeply, filling his chest to the very brim with reinvigorating air. The air tasted sweet with honeysuckle and smelled like the mighty Appalachian Mountains, fresh with dew and wind. Secretly, he liked this country world's more than the depressing gray and rain of England.

The air all around him was tinged with a note of haunting despondency.

Isaac sighed and perched himself on the back of a broken wagon, still stocked with the firewood it had carried before losing a wheel. He squeezed the bridge of his nose and shook his head agitatedly, as if to free himself from these strange thoughts…. The sadness he felt all around him, also the jolt of too many emotions that had exploded at once. The shock and despair emitted from the watery irises of Alice Munro; Nathaniel Poe with his icy blue eyes defiant even as he was chained; the father, the brother. He had not expected this chain of events.

Isaac cocked his head to the side as a thought struck him. How _did _Edward manage to come by that information, information that would have circulated among officers of higher rank than Edward. He highly doubted that Webb or Pritchard or Hughes, Captains and Generals of important standing, had confided in a pretentious fool like Edward. He had once counted Edward as a friend but then privately began to despise the other man and ceased confiding in him. Edward's actions were most displeasing and not befitting a true gentleman. Isaac scoffed at the mere thought; as if anyone would truly pay any heed to Edward Lamberth.

_A gossip, an imbecile, a braggart and a wencher of the worst caliber, _thought Isaac disdainfully as he rose with alacrity, dusting himself off and straightening his uniform. Isaac pondered this absurdity when an idea began to creep into his mind.

He turned and squinted into the darkened corridors that led to the soldier's barracks. Isaac felt a mild trepidation but then steely resolve overtook any misgivings. He was, after all, an officer that outranked Edward- who _certainly _had nothing untoward to hide, thought Isaac cynically.

Rapid strides took Isaac into the scantily lit corridor, past doorways and blinking lanterns. He made a sharp turn to the right, and after a few more paces descended upon the entryway of Edward's and other soldier's lodgings.

Isaac turned the doorknob and entered without knocking. His dark-eyed gaze swept the space, the handful of men were lounging in various parts of the quarters; some playing cards on the ground by candlelight, a lad named Francis Oldroyd downing the contents of a bottle that Isaac would wager his life was rum, most likely bartered from some drunken mariners sailing inland from the Caribbean. Isaac sniffed but said nothing, instead looking for Edward in a group of three men who were on the ground, snickering and twirling a piece of crockery on the ground, howling with laughter as it fell and shattered.

Edward knew this game, it was called "break the pope's neck" by those who indulged in anti-Papist sentiments. Though he did not wear it on his sleeve like some trophy, Isaac had been raised Catholic and so felt a jolt of outrage and resentment.

"Put that away- _now!_" Isaac said in a low voice, eyes narrowed as his jaw clenched. The three men on the ground looked bemused, and eyed Oldroyd who was attempting to hide his bottle of spirits unobserved as he was the only one who was breaking any true regulation.

"Do not look in his direction. I was referring to you three, put that stupid distraction away this instant. If I find out you have stolen that piece of tableware from the mess hall, you will all pay the worth of it ten times over in the form of rations. Straighten these quarters." Isaac watched as everyone set about storing everything in the room, "All of you line up."

_Where the hell is Edward? _thought Isaac, then racked his brain for something to rail about in order to hide his confusion and stall for time.

"Is this a soldier's fort, or a schoolhouse of unruly children?" there was an uncomfortable silence. "Answer me."

The group of men muttered collectedly that it was the former.

"Then why is it that I find you all gambling and wasting your time on frivolous pursuits? This is not the English countryside with relaxed habits and pleasantries. You are in the British colonies and we are at war with France! Do you think the soldiers of King Louis are lounging about playing ninepin or backgammon… or… whatever it is the people do in France?"

Someone snickered and Isaac scowled but did not break stride, "The king of the Frogs would not allow such a thing, neither do we. Now-"

Isaac heard the doorknob turn and the door opened with a loud creak. It was Edward. Isaac stared at him coldly.

"Isaac," the other man said casually, loping inside and tossing his hat onto his cot. "Is everything alright?"

Isaac nodded curtly. "This is a surprise inspection. Everyone must leave these quarters until further notice."

Edward froze and locked eyes with Isaac, unblinking. "What?"

Isaac felt his brows arch almost into his hairline. "I will ignore the impertinent tone for the time being. To answer you all, I have found contraband to be rife in the barracks and have decided to make inspections."

"But…" Edward burst out, "we have not received notice of this! Sir," he added the last part hastily, tucking a strand of lank hair behind his ear shakily. Isaac noticed he kept staring at his bed.

Isaac sighed, "Lamberth, that is precisely the entire _point _of a surprise inspection. Any advance notice would yield results contradictory to the objective. Do not be so daft, it does not become you. Everyone out, close the door, and God help you if I find any of you sticking your eyes or ears anywhere near the door."

The men nodded and made shallow bows before scurrying out. Isaac stared hard at Edward who was lingering near the entrance. Isaac could almost taste the other man's misgivings.

"Isaac, sir, allow me to assist you. There are too many beds and… and baggage to search." Edward made a quick unconscious move towards his own sleeping area and was stopped by a stern command from Isaac. Edward stared at him, his eyes wide and naked.

"Isaac… we use to be friends. Brothers in arms."

Isaac felt a prickle of guilt in the back of his mind as Edward continued, "After you received your promotion to an officer you left me behind and treated me like scum. You made no move to elevate me and then forgot all about our friendship. A kinship that spanned years and continents but which was severed after you became my superior in rank."

"That is not true, Edward. I was your staunch friend since entering this regiment. I did not change, you did." Isaac shook his head as Edward opened his mouth furiously to reply, "We can spend eternity disagreeing over this issue, but you did change and became someone callous and cruel. I know my faults, my pride- but never do I wish ill upon another. And besides, I know more about your dealings than you think. In loyalty to our old camaraderie I have not reported any of your illicit activity as my position demands."

Edward glared at Isaac now resentfully, hatefully, with open hostility. "Such as what?" he sneered, his fists working at his side.

"Such as the gambling racket you have set up with the dregs of our regiment. A fine example, should you be considered for promotion. You terrorize the lads below you, be they cooks or drummers. I try to speak to them but they will not say a word against you, their fright is so great. I know you lie, you steal, and do not think I am unaware of what you are doing to Amelia."

At this, Edward scoffed and rolled his eyes and Isaac felt a swell of shame that he had not been able to protect the young girl from the advances of Edward. His reasoning had been that he had not wanted to humiliate the girl in any way or cause Edward to be lashed as punishment.

"I should never have turned a blind eye to your lechery, Edward. You think I do not know you? Everywhere you go, serving girls and tavern wenches and more. You are using that poor girl. You should be ashamed of yourself, sir."

Edward glowered and did not answer for a moment before replying "Ashamed, _sir? _For tumbling the chambermaid?" he merely brushed his hand to the side in a quick gesture, showing how he considered the matter of Millie Warren to be trivial and inconsequential. Isaac's eyes hardened. _Tumbling? _How crass and indecent, he had only heard the lower classes use that terminology.

"Off with you. Stay out of my way, join the other men and do not return until you are called." The former friends faced each other in a frigid silence of long moments; they both knew their previous friendship would never be mended at this point, Edward would always resent Isaac for his advancements in the military and Isaac would never trust a lecher and a thief.

Giving Isaac another spiteful look of rancor, Edward marched out, slamming the door, his boots stomping away down the corridor.

Isaac looked at the door in true sadness; it was a shame that things had become so entangled and problematic. Such a shame that one could feel such devotion to a friend in one's youth, before matters fell apart, never to be repaired. Edward had chosen his own path, thought Isaac. He had a darkness that shadowed him, Isaac could see it in his eyes.

Isaac crouched by the side of Edward's cot and surveyed all his belongings. He had a feeling he would find something here, he needed an explanation as to why a foot-soldier would be so informed on military matters; it wasn't even so much about his knowledge of Nathaniel Poe, it was other cases when Edward conveniently knew the comings and goings of affair that should have stayed between officers and Captains and Generals. There was mischief afoot, Isaac knew it.

Almost ten minutes later, Isaac had finished rummaging through Edward's belongings, thumbed through the few books he possessed, inspected every inch of his cot, and still he had found nothing. Merely insipid little love notes from Millie and the like. He did find a cheap little pocket watch that looked like the one the Mason boy had on him. Realizing Edward had lifted it from a prisoner, Isaac felt disgusted and placed it in his pocket to return it to its rightful owner.

Isaac still had not found anything and felt incredibly frustrated. He refused to believe that divine Providence had gifted Edward Lamberth with mystical power as a seer. Just then his eyes cut to the tall garrison tri-corn hat that Edward had flung inattentively on the bedsheets. He recalled how Edward had kept watching it discreetly. Isaac picked up the hat and tilted his head curiously. It felt... bulkier?... than the norm. Flipping it over and peering inside, Isaac inspected the interior closely and saw it was oddly shaped and the lining had been altered. He ran a callused finger down the inside slowly. Yes, the lining had been stitched back poorly, after being ripped out.

Isaac walked swiftly to the candlelight and crouched closer, pulling his pocketknife out and expertly slitting the stitching off. If it was nothing, Isaac would personally apologize to Edward and replace Edward's hat with his own and compensate him.

Isaac was taken aback as a neat stack of parchment began to fall out of the opening. _What the bloody hell? _For the next several minutes Isaac thumbed through the documents, his sharp eyes missing nothing- especially not the dates and who sent them and who they were meant for.

Edward... did his depravity know no bounds? As soon as the shock that cloaked the young officer had worn off, fiery rage coursed through his veins at Edward's abuse of position, his conniving, his thievery – his underhanded and duplicitous nature.

Crushing the letters in his hand, Isaac stalked outside, slamming the door against the wall in his ire. Edward would not be able to walk away from this, though Isaac as his gaze met the wide and agitated eyes of his former friend who was skulking outside. Edward seemed to almost wilt and wither as Isaac lifted the crumpled documents and brandished them in front of Edward.

"Is this what you wanted to _assist _me with? What you would have disposed once I had my back turned?" Isaac turned suddenly, "Collins!" he barked. _By God, I will have him face a court-martial. _

"Yes, sir."

"Bring me the master-at-arms. We have another criminal that needs accommodations."

* * *

Anicus sprinted down the green trails of his forest home, as fast and silent as a doe. He needed to reach the camp quickly.

After the face-off that had apparently occurred between the moon-girl, his father, Chingachgook and the others, the yellow-haired girl had been locked up as well as _Long Carabine._ The red-haired boy and himself had been released. Why? What had occurred? He did not know, as the older men did not confide in him and his father was pointedly ignoring him. The silence between father and son had been thick with disappointment and regret.

_Father, _thought Anicus as he leaped expertly over a fallen log, _by Mannitto I promise that I did not mean for all of this to happen. Folly and pride are my weaknesses. Father, you were right. Please forgive my rashness in leaving before you all. But there is something I must do and I know you will not approve. _

Anicus sent a prayer to the Great Spirit, fervently begging of the Creator luck and good fortune. He had snuck off on his own from the outside of the white man's fort where the men had been conversing urgently over what to do. The tall yellow-haired man was saying they had to speak with the master of the whites in this colony. A _gob..gob..nor _who lived in a place 5 days walk away. Uncas had seemed to be quietly pleading with the white man.

Anicus had had a clearer idea and so melted into the woods while the men argued.

He was now at the river not far from the camp and squinted as he made out the willowy figure of Tankawun, sitting alone on the rocks. Anicus approached her.

"Tankawun, I need your help." Anicus said this without preamble or warning and watch in stoic silence and the girl screamed and scrambled to her feet, staring up at him with watery eyes of shock.

"Anicus? You- how- What happened? Where are the others? Have you all been released?" she asked this hopefully, her pretty features avid and intent on Anicus.

"What happened to your face?" asked Anicus in momentary distraction. She had an angry bruise coloring her cheekbone and jaw, "never mind, it is not important. Listen to me, I am sorry. You were right about your white friends. He... _Steeben _and that white girl are good-"

"Anicus, thank you for saying that and-"

"I am not finished with my words," Anicus cut in impatiently, "the flame-haired boy is released but they have kept the golden-haired girl captive. It will not be so. I have said it. The whites are cruel even against their own. We will release her from her cage."

Tankawun's eyes were wide and anxious. "Yes, Anicus. I am with you. What can I do? Do you have any weapons? Will you show me how to use them?"

Anicus's mouth quirked into a momentary smile at the girl's spunk. "I will explain that later. The first thing I need for you to do is go home to our camp- now, quickly- and round up Wagion, Gohkos, Molsem, only those we can trust," Tankawun was nodding fervantly, "no elders! Only young people who do not have a mate or children. But quickly and silently. We have to run back because the plan is to be carried out at night."

Tankawun made a movement towards the path that led to the camp, deep in thought. "Anicus, friend, I will bring the strongest. Also weapons."

Anicus nodded stoutly, "_Alapsi, mai wenchahki!" _he bade her hurry and return and watched the girl disappear around a bend. She was always so quick and nimble, her feet like clouds from the east.

The Lenape counter-strike had begun, thought Anicus with a smile.

* * *

The door was locked. Millie gave a frustrated sigh as she raised the large brass ring that contained her set of all the keys needed for the fort. This one stored all the linen and such, and she needed to put up the laundered sheets. She had also decided to sneak off two blankets and a makeshift pillow for Alice Munro. The poor girl, her back must have been aching now something fierce.

Before she had time to do this, a young drummer by the name of Thomas Camp scurried up to her. In actuality, the orphaned boy had been born with the surname Van Kaampen but due to prejudices against the Dutch he had shortened it.

"Sir Camp," Millie teased, "what has you so excited?"

The boy's hazel eyes were round. "The most frightful scene. Edward Lamberth was involved in a mighty row with Isaac. Lamberth was arrested and was taken kicking and screaming to General Waddell's quarters."

Millie felt her heard seize. "W-What?"

Tom misinterpreted her shock for giddiness. "It's true, I saw it. He swore like a sailor and kicked up such a fuss, he did, screaming profanities as he was taken away." Tom sighed happily. "Now the rest of us can be at ease. I hope they thrash the devil out of him and throw him out."

Millie threw him a sharp look, "Do not say such things, lad."

"It is true," said the boy stubbornly, his jaw set, "he tormented us for so long. Remember Peter Mannox? He joined our ranks when his mother died and he had no other place to go. Sailed from bleedin' England, he did. He was still in shock from it all, was made into a cook because it did not require too much talk. Lamberth despised him for being quiet and would bother him so much that Mannox developed a nervous disposition. He was sent back home to London."

Looking down, Millie felt uncomfortable because she did recall that. Poor Peter Mannox, only around 14 years old. He began jumping at little noises and shadows, didn't eat and sleep. When he began wandering the fields with no recollection of having left on his own, well, the decision was made to discharge him and send him to England. After that, no one ever heard from him again. He had been a sweet boy; sweet and sad and lost.

"Come with me! They are questioning him." He pulled her arm urgently and they ran off.

In a few minute's time they reached the General's quarters where a crowd of redcoats had quietly gathered to listen in on the unfolding drama. One of them held a finger to his lips, warning them to be silent as Millie and Tom crept close. Millie cautiously leaned in.

"...by God, man, have you no honor to speak of?" Waddell blustered in outrage. Millie leaned closer. "How dare you, sir? How do you have the cheek- no, the bloody _gall _to steal private correspondence from your superior officer? Answer me, damn you!"

There was a thump and Millie winced, knowing Waddell had most likely struck Edward.

"I can explain, sir." Edward said, voice trembling. Millie knew from experience the quaking in his tone was from suppressed rage and not remorse or nerves.

"Well, you had better! Why did I never receive these reports and correspondence?"

"I do not know, sir."

"Do not sass me, boy. They were in your possession."

"I found them in someone's quarters, sir." There was in incredulous pause. Waddell's voice was quiet in amazement.

"Do you honestly expect me to believe that you found these private documents and then sewed them into your bloody hat for safekeeping?"

"General Waddell, I can assure you-"

Waddell interrupted Edward, "I suggest you choose your words wisely, boy. You are facing a court-martial."

"Yes sir. I found them in the belongings of a lad here, a drummer. I stored them as such to protect them until your arrival."

"Which lad?"

"His name is Thomas Van Kaampen, sir. But he goes by Tom Camp."

Tom squeezed Millie's arm and both their jaws dropped as the two eavesdropping adolescents exchanged appalled looks. The men around them began to mutter. Even in the low light, Millie could see the red flush on Tom's face. He was livid. Before Millie could stop him the boy rushed into the room.

"He is lying! General, that man lies as he breathes!"

"Thomas, come back here!" Millie clutched her skirts and rushed after him. The boy could face harsh punishment for listening in to such delicate matters. But Thomas would not back down, he shrugged her pale hand from his shoulder.

"You rat! You liar!" Tom raged, "if there is anyone in this entire bleedin' fort who would do such a thing, it's Lamberth, sir. He's lying to cover his tracks but I won't bloody stand for it, eh?"

Edward began to shout more accusation at Tom until Millie could not take it anymore. She had had enough of Edward's excessive lies and cruelty. She would not stand by and watch another innocent person shoulder the blame for Edward's wrongdoing.

"General, Thomas speaks the truth." Amelia whispered.

Edward's face turned purple. "Shut your mouth, you wicked bitch!"

"Edward Lamberth!" Waddell thundered, eyes flashing, "you will never speak to a lady in that manner again!"

"A lady? Never, sir." Edward said maliciously. Millie caught the double meaning and flushed but pressed bravely onward.

"I know this because he told me. Edward told me that he had been intercepting your correspondence to be informed of the talk between men of high military rank, to have information in exchange for favors, and..." Millie's eyes met Edward's across the room, "I think so he could pretend he was a Major or General, as that was never a possibility due to his bad character."

Edward's eyes were glowing like two hot coals in a fire pit. And Millie saw, she watched with dread as that slow smile spread across his face, the smile of a hunter catching up to his prey.

"Well," he said calmly, "at least now we know you are a liar as well as a slut."

Isaac Bauman stepped up to Edward and, in an uncharacteristic display of hostility, grabbed the other man by the collar. "Apologize to her, now! Or I will have you flogged, Edward, so help me God."

Edward was too far-gone in his anger to register the very real threat; he knew his military career was beyond salvage so he did not care anymore. "Have you had the silly girl, too? I think you have, Isaac, or else why do you constantly defend the stupid chit? She lifts her skirts for redcoats, everyone knows-"

Isaac's fist breaking Edwards's nose stopped that sentence from ever being uttered.

Waddell sighed and rolled his eyes and Tom smirked with satisfaction as the other man writhed in agony on the floor.

"You broke my nose!" Edward said, but his rapidly swelling face made his words almost unintelligible.

"You what, Mr Lamberth?" Thomas taunted in provocation, "what about your toes?"

Edward repeated it louder.

"You found a rose?"

"Enough!" Waddell yelled. "Somebody take this filth to the infirmary. Make sure he does not escape."

After the bleeding soldier was hauled off, all eyes turned carefully to Millie. She was so humiliated and hurt that she wanted to sink to the ground, disappear from this wretched place and never return.

Tears poured down her face as she said haltingly and through gasps, "What Edward said is partially true, General. I did indeed... fraternize... with him. Not with Mr. Bauman or anybody else. I am sorry, sir. I should have also told you about his stealing of your correspondence, sir, but I was frightened. He threatened to hurt me and I have nobody here to defend me." Millie lowered her eyes, feeling wretched. Nobody said a word after her whispered confession.

She heard Isaac sigh deeply and stride to her. Placing a hand on her shoulder he seemed to search for words. "Millie-"

But she just bobbed a small curtsy and walked out of the door, not meeting anybody's eyes.

Instead of doing her shameful walk to her sleeping quarters across the fort, Millie's feet took her to an entirely different direction. Without pausing to truly think matters through, Millie reached the person she had thought of all day.

Millie felt emotionless as she found the key, turned the lock and opened the door.

Alice Munro blinked up at Millie, confused. "Is it... are you bringing me an early supper?"

Amelia felt gutted, empty; everything Edward had told her had been a lie. He had never intended to marry her. He only used her for his own selfish means. _What a fool I have been, _thought Millie with bitterness. She felt her life was truly over now. Everyone in town would hear about it, they would point and whisper about how loose she was. She could not even leave the Pennsylvania colony because Mama was so ill in another town.

The most she could do, now at the threshold of all this pain and despair, was help this girl who deserved to be with the man who loved her.

"You can leave now, Miss Alice." Millie whispered, eyes stinging and not even having the spirit to smile.

Alice eyed the other girl alertly, taking in her red and blotchy skin, tear tracks on her face, but above all the wretched agony in her eyes.

"Leave, Alice. You are free to go."

"What happened to you, Millie?"

"Nothing. Leave me. Your family has been at the edge of the woods. Go to them."

"Nathaniel? My brother-in-law?"

Millie shook her head, indicating she did not know. "Alice, there is not much time left. Most of the soldiers are only now dispersing from General Waddell's quarters so you must leave now, this moment. Leave quickly through a small door before the kitchen..." Millie sighed, "you don't know what any of this means. Come, I will show you."

Alice looked uncertain but hopeful. "Are you quite certain? Millie, they could bring charges against you."

Amelia grasped her hand and pulled her out then locked the door again behind them. "Come, Alice. Make haste, follow my instructions and you will not be seen or heard."

Together, the two young women disappeared into the darkness of the corridor.

* * *

Anicus had a sour look on his face as he surveyed the lot Tankawun had brought. He pulled the girl aside by the elbow.

"Tankawun," he hissed, "what have you done? Where is Gohkos? Molsem?"

The Lenape girl looked affronted. "I could not find them. So I brought Wagion, Mategwas and Alemos," Tankawun whispered.

Anicus looked at Mategwas, the fat girl whose bed Wagion was sharing. Anicus frowned deeper. She was hideous and foul-tempered. She probably beat him in private, too.

"What is wrong with Mategwas and Alemos?" Tankawun shot back.

"They are..." Anicus looked bewildered at where to begin. _Mategwas gives me nightmares. Alemos cries for everything. She will endanger our position by squealing when she sees a white man. _"They are girls."

Tankawun reared up in anger. "They are girls, but they have heart! Just because we are female does not mean we must be banished to the corner of a wigwam, weaving baskets and mending breech-clouts! Mategwas is fearless and Alemos... well..." Tankawun struggled with her words before shrugging philosophically. "I could not find anyone else. She asked to come and brought a fire-stick her brother obtained from a Yengeese soldier." She glanced up, "Show him, Alemos! We will fight the Yengeese with their own weapons."

Alemos, the smallest girl at the camp, walked timidly up to Anicus. Though Tankawun's age, she only reached the other girl's shoulder. She presented the long rifle to Anicus who admired its shiny maple stock and long barrel. He looked around, confused.

"Where is that other thing?"

"What?" asked Wagion with perplexity.

"That thing. The thing the Yengeese pour inside here," Anicus thumbed the barrel, "that makes the fire and that round thing come out."

The others stared at him blankly; the Delaware were among the few Indians who did not have easy access to white men's weapons and always used arrows and hatchets. Anicus swiveled to stare at Tankawun, who looked embarrassed. "Yes, I remember now," she said, red-faced, "Yengeese call it _pow-der_"

"Well, where _is _it?"

Alemos whispered that they did not have that. Anicus fought to control his temper. "_Wulelimil, Alemos._" he said in sarcasm, "it's worthless!" he pushed it back into her arms. Wagion clapped him on the shoulders and showed him the array of clubs, hatchets, bows and arrows they had also brought with them.

"The girl's cannot use these, we must instruct them before we reach the fort. Better to go now, I cannot be sure we were not seen." Wagion glanced worriedly into the direction of the camp. "This idea is lunacy, Anicus." Wagion grinned happily. "Let us go."

They walked for some time, the boys were almost soundless as they tread through the forest and the girls, of course, not so much. Anicus cringed as Mategwas stomped about behind them, breathing loudly. Just then they all jumped as they heard a loud rumble. One by one, all eyes shifted to Mategwas.

"_Alemi nkatupwi!" _she defended, her belly giving another protesting growl. Even her voice sounded like that of a man.

"She is hungry," Wagion murmured delicately.

"I heard her," Anicus retorted, watching with disgust at the fond glance shared between Wagion and Mategwas. Alemos withdrew some cornbread from her doe-skin satchel and offered it to Mategwas.

"_Wanishi" _the large girl mumbled sullenly and ate the cornbread in two large bites.

"At least Mategwas made sure none of us were hungry, first." Anicus muttered this, scuffing his moccasins on the grass and soil. Wagion rolled his eyes.

"Come on, it will be nightfall soon."

"Alemos, let me carry that for you," Anicus hefted up the rifle, "it is much too heavy." He missed the heated blush that crossed the girl's face when his fingertips dragged across her shoulder blades.

When twilight crept across the sky, the two boys and three girls were laying on their bellies in the tall grass, watching the fort and waiting for darkness to cover them completely. Anicus was whispering.

"From here we will be seen. But once it is dark, we will travel around the perimeter through the trees and find an unguarded entrance. I am certain I saw one when I was leaving. A small doorway that leads to where the food is prepared. The prisoners are kept in the lower level."

"Tell me, Anicus," Wagion replied after a pause, "what will happen when they are alerted that red men have breached their fortress? Because this is bound to happen. Who will they shoot first, do you think?"

"And where exactly are Uncas's brother and his wife?" Alemos asked softly. Anicus tilted his head down at the tiny girl. All in all he was impressed with her cool.

"I do not have a plan," Anicus admitted. Alemos giggled, and Anicus stared at her dimples and sharply white teeth. He swallowed, suddenly feeling his throat become dry. Anicus looked away.

A branch cracked nearby. "Stay down!" Wagion motioned to the girls quickly as he and Anicus shot to their feet, hatchets raised and eyes watchful.

"Who is there?" Anicus asked in his most commanding voice, trying to imitate his father. There was another rustle.

"Anicus?" came the voice from the near darkness. Anicus recognized her at once. "Tankawun! It's her!"

Alice decended from behind the trees and smiled happily. There was another girl slightly behind her, a dark haired girl.

"Anicus... Tankawun... it is _so _good to see you!" Anicus watched with relief as Tankawun launched herself at Alice and the two embraced.

"Why are you here?" Alice asked. Tankawun apparently deciphered the question because she said something short back to the moon-girl.

"Now we rescue _Longe Carabine,_" Anicus explained. The Yengeese girls stared at him, confused. The dark haired one looked especially terrified. Anicus struggled to remember the Yengeese name of Uncas's brother.

"_Longe Carabine... Nat-an-ee-yell..._" he then to gestured to themselves, the weapons, and the fort.

"Oh, dear." Alice sighed and smiled ruefully at the Delaware youths. She began a heated discussion with the other girl, pointing to the fort and back into the forest. Finally the dark haired one nodded.

"Come, she knows the way." Alice gingerly picked up a hatchet and tucked it into her skirts. "We will think of a plan yet." They sped off towards the opposite side of the fort, mindful of not being seen.

* * *

Chingachgook and the other men emerged from the woods and immediately spotted the tracks of a large group of people making circles in complete confusion around the woods of the fort. The light was extremely poor, but the older men caught it irregardless.

"Whites and Indians, together?" Uncas asked in confusion, appraising the footprints.

"Who are the Indians?" James asked tiredly. Uncas gestured and pointed here and there. "Two Indian men, I can tell by their moccasins but also they are careful of where they step and do not disturb the ground. Some Indian girls, also wearing moccasins but not skilled at concealing their tracks. And whites, judging by the instep and heel and weight, females."

They tracked them for sometime, James plodding along casually as he thought about the tracks Uncas had read. _I didn't see a damned thing in the ground except dirt, _lamented James, a little jealous of the skill these red men had in the forest. It was no exaggeration to say it was almost mystical.

So far the plan was made to travel to Philadelphia and seek the help of the governor to petition for the release of Alice. In the case of Nathaniel, well, that was more problematic but James had a nice little plan of bribing the right people, especially the guards. They were in a war and nothing drew interest like gold. What did the guards care of one prisoner? They needed to round up enough gold and silver and shillings, but not say a thing to Cora. No female hysterics in the near future, James thought with a nod.

"I hope Anicus got home alright," remarked James, recalling the simmering anger in Hopocan's face when they realized Anicus had skulked off. He looked around at the others as they had gone very quiet.

Chingachgook raised a weathered brown hand and James fell quiet. He leaned into Uncas and elbowed him in inquiry.

"Anicus did not make it home," Uncas said as he rushed towards the group of people lying on their bellies in the grass; very, very close to the fort.

"Alice!" James felt his jaw drop as he recognized the dress that all three women shared. He watched in shock then glee as Alice clung to Uncas and the two did not seem to want to let go. Uncas whispered words to Alice as she buried her face in his neck, she only nodded or shook her head.

"Uncas," she sighed, gripping him tighter. They ignored the rest of the people crowding around them.

"Back, all of you." Chingachgook spoke this tersely and then rapidly in Delaware. The party immediately scurried into the woods. Uncas looked around in astonishment at the people they had found canvassing the fort. Alice, Anicus, Wagion, Tankawun, that stocky girl Nathaniel and Anicus always made snide remarks about, and that skinny little female who never spoke so Uncas did not know her name. Also the girl that worked inside the fort.

"Have you lost your minds? What happened here?" Hopocan asked angrily, throwing his hide covering over his shoulder in a sudden slash of movement. "Anicus, Wagion and Tankawun. Of course. The rule-breakers of our camp have broadened their horizons to include the Yengeese!"

"Explain yourselves. Now." Chingachgook's tone made it apparent he expected no argument.

Uncas listened intently yet unwilling to release his grip upon Alice. They had never been so overly demonstrative but he found himself almost unable to stop touching her. He held her close and stroked her skin and hair as he listened. When Alice came into the story his eyes tightened as he stared coldly at Anicus and Wagion.

Wagion's eyes widened in the darkness. "Uncas, friend, she insisted on coming with us. She and the other girl. We could not refuse her and she stated she knew an entrance of easy access!"

"You should have searched for us. Should have waited. How could you involve women in this dangerous plan, it would have failed for countless reasons. You both endangered females whom, as men, you are sworn to protect."

James looked thoughtfully at Uncas. Though he did not understand a single phrase of Delaware, he could sense the lad's outrage in his stance, his eyes and his long stream of words. Uncas hardly ever spoke very much.

"Lass," James interrupted, "how did you... well, escape, for lack of a better word?"

Alice smiled bracingly at James, nodding to the other girl. "This is Amelia Warren. She helped me escape."

Amelia did not waste any time on unnecessary words. "They will not notice she is missing likely until tomorrow morning. That buys you all time. As for Mr. Nathaniel Poe, I can only give you the key to his cell and indicate to you where to find him. I warn you, however, that because his crime is sedition and treason, he will be heavily guarded. More so after they discover my disappearance and Alice missing. They may even relocate him to a more secure spot."

"Ay, more than likely on the urging of that smug bastard, Bauman." James stroked his chin in thought.

Millie threw James a strange look. "Isaac is no such thing, sir. He is stern and prideful, yes, but also very fair and honorable."

James shrugged casually, not in the mood to argue. "Agree to disagree, lass."

"Where can we go? Alice cannot stay here nor the homes in the Valley as they may be searched." Uncas directed this question to James, but it was Amelia who answered.

"I know what can be done. Go to my home, a few miles from here. It is merely a small cabin I normally share with my mother, but Mama is currently is Harrisburg seeking treatment for her advanced consumption." Amelia paused and said with apparent difficulty, "She will not return again to the cabin. I will go to her after tonight, and stay with her until the end of her life. It will not be long now."

Amelia was... the saddest story he had ever seen, thought James with pity. She looked as if she had led a miserable life and even now was struggling with hardships.

"It is decided, then." Chingachgook spoke up in Delaware, "Uncas, you will take your wife and the girl to this cabin. Stay there until I come for you all. It may be a few days. Tankawun, Alemos, Mategwas. You have shown your spirit and courage and have earned the right to decide for yourselves what to do. But understand it would be better if you returned home."

Mategwas grunted. "Is there a plan yet, to free your son?"

Chingachgook shook his head shortly.

"Friends," said Tankawun softly, "where is Stephen? Is he well?"

Hopocan nodded but with compassion instead of temper. "Yes, child. He went home." At Tankawun's radiant smile of relief, an idea struck Hopocan of how to make her run back the way she came, and the other girls would surely follow. "Why do you not go to him? I know he misses you." Tankawun nodded to herself.

"Alemos, Mategwas, let us return to the camp. The men will be fine. Mannitto smile upon you all, friends, and I pray for victory and for your son, Chingachgook."

"Here," said Alemos suddenly, handing over a long rifle in good condition, "you can use this. But it does not have the.. the thing..."

"_Pow-der_," supplied Tankawun helpfully.

"We have plenty, Alemos, _wanishi._" Uncas was glad as now they would have an extra weapon.

Not much later, they all dispersed in different directions.

* * *

Alice opened her voice with a wince, her head pounding and lips felt cracked and bleeding. She sat up groggily. _Where am I? _She thought with a mild panic as she stared at unfamiliar surroundings. A small sized cabin with two beds, a hearth, a table... almost like the Stewart's cabin.

She remembered then. She had walked for a long time with Uncas and Millie, for hours, slowed by their exhaustion, until they had reached the cabin. Once inside Uncas insisted the girl's go to bed immediately while he worked on starting a fire in the cabin and checking the food stores. Millie and Alice crawled into one bed that belonged to Millie on the far wall together but Uncas refused to take the other one, commenting he could not sleep on Yengeese beds.

"On what?" Millie had asked with a yawn of pure exhaustion.

"White people. They sleep on beds that are too uncomfortable."

Alice had giggled as her eyes closed in sleep. "He calls feather mattresses uncomfortable, Millie. How I would love one..."

Now awake and growing more alert, Alice slipped out of the bed. She found Millie crouched by the hearth, stirring a sweet-smelling stew.

"Good morning, Alice." Millie glanced at Alice with a quick smile then concentrated on the stew. "Uncas arose early to hunt some small game, also found some potatoes and turnips for our morning meal. He went to wash at the stream. Alice, I shall leave after breakfast."

Alice felt a pang in her heart, she knew Millie had to go to her mother in Harrisburg but it would be hard to see the girl leave. They had lived through so much together in such a short amount of time.

"I will miss you, Millie." Alice said, her voice trembling. Millie looked up and her eyes were suspiciously bright. She stood up and linked her hands with Alice's.

"I will miss you as well. But I have to go. I have an acquaintance who will take me as far as Harrisburg, a family friend who lives just around the bend from here. I have much to ponder."

Alice squeezed the other girl's hands. Amelia had told her about the despicable actions of Edward. "You need time to heal, Amelia, I know."

"I have to be with Mama until... until the end. But then, who knows? I may even take myself to your Valley. I have never been there and it sounds beautiful, from what you have told me."

Alice gasped in happiness, "Millie that is joyous news, indeed! You are a capable woman. If you should choose to live in the Delaware Valley you will have the full support and assistance of myself, Uncas, and our families." Millie smiled, but as usual traces of sadness lingered. She brightened moments later.

"You may use my dresses and such, they are stored in the trunk by my bed. Uncas said he will hunt for food. There is a stream nearby if you wish to bathe, it is secluded and I have no neighbors nearby, only Mr. Matthews and he is taking me to see my mother. It will be just you and Uncas." Millie smiled at Alice's blush.

Uncas strode in just then, his hair and chest damp. He smiled warmly at Alice and Amelia. Millie blsuhed at his bare skin but Alice had become accustomed to it.

"Uncas, that stew you made smells delicious. What is it? Millie said you caught game."

Uncas considered her question. "_Machq" _he finally said.

Alice gasped in horror. "Bear?" she sputtered in horror, "you caught a bear? By yourself?"

"Oh yes!" nodded Millie, "a large frightful black one. Then the poor creature's wife came looking for it here so I suggest you do not wander outside, Alice."

"But Uncas, why did you-" Alice stopped as Amelia succumbed to great peels of laughter. She looked from Millie to Uncas who was shaking his head at her with a small smile and became red-faced. "Alright, you have made a right fool of me. What did you truly catch?"

"A pair of rabbits, Alice."

Amelia laughed even harder.

After breakfast was finished, Amelia arose and went for her rucksack that had already been packed. She said she had to walk to Mr. Matthews cabin, it was not far and it would be best if she went alone. After bidding farewell to the couple, with a kiss on the cheek for Alice and a handshake for Uncas, they were finally alone.

Alice looked self-consciously at Uncas through her long hair as she gathered the trenchers and cleared the table. "The cabin is nice, although lacking the warmth and familiarity of the Stewart's," she murmured. Uncas nodded his agreement and continued to eye her intently.

Alice cleared her throat and straightened. "I was told there is a stream nearby. I wish to bathe and perhaps later wash my dress."

Uncas nodded obligingly, watching as she gathered another clean dress from Amelia's carved trunk. She chose a pretty white frock with a floral pattern as well as a shift. She felt her face burning as she turned to walk outside the cabin, clutching the articles of clothing. Uncas held her hand as he guided her towards the stream, adding that Millie was correct, it was quite secluded.

Alice felt so bewildered and her cheeks continued to flame, more than anything because she was completely alone with Uncas, and he meant to follow her to the stream so she could bathe. She knew it was only for her protection, but she wondered so about married life. How did women and men live together with such ease? How did women undress themselves in front of their husbands, how long before the fierce shyness melted away?

They had reached the stream that was shaded by long rows of yellow birch trees and wildflowers. Alice thought the place glorious. The sunlight illuminated Uncas's gentle face through the leaves above them, the wind rocked the branches and whispered around them. By autumn these trees would be a magnificent yellow hue.

"Go on, Alice," Uncas said, releasing her hand, his face unreadable. "Do you need help?"

Alice shook her head a little frantically. With his sharp eyes, he must have been noticing her embarrassment. The gown she was wearing was a linen polonaise frock worn also by Anabel and Cora, light in color and fastened in the front as opposed to the back. It had buttons instead of laces.

When Alice reached for the front of her dress, her eyes sought Uncas unconsciously and he seemed to read it a sign of discomfort. He nodded and stated he would be just around the trees, to call for him if anything was needed. Alice felt a jolt of sudden disappointment as he left. She and Uncas were as good as her husband and wife now and while they could never legally marry, in her mind they were bonded and... why should she hide herself?

She was embarrassed, truth be told. She had never considered herself to be a great beauty and lacked the elegant curves of Annabel and Cora. Alice, well, her frame was far too slender for that. She was tall and thin as a reed.

So it was with a vague sense of disappointment that Alice quickly shed her dress, shift and stockings and slid into the cool water, scrubbing the sorrow from herself and wishing Uncas was there with her. She felt the tepid water run from her hair and down her heated skin. _Later, _she whispered to herself, _later there will be time for worries. I am here with him now. That is all that can matter._

_

* * *

_Later in the afternoon the couple sat side-by-side at the table, Alice nibbling on the piece of potato left on her plate. That was all they had to eat at this point. The remains of the stew from the morning and sad little potatoes they had found around the rocky outskirts of the cabin. The sun was dipping in the horizon and Alice was still feeling invigorated and energetic. She had cleaned the cabin and familiarized herself with everything in it.

Just then Uncas tipped the rest of his supper into her plate, murmuring that she needed to eat more. Alice protested without success, then lapsed into a daydream about the doll dance Uncas had told her his people performed.

"Uncas…" she began slowly, "when we live in our cabin and I am your.. your wife, will you tell me more of these stories? Of your people's beliefs?"

Uncas felt his heart lift at hearing these words, she spoke only of the future, hardly ever of the past.

He pulled her gently towards him and she willingly wrapped her arms around him, staring up at him from his chest.

"I will tell you Scottish tales, from my homeland. Also Greek legends and myths."

"Which ones?" he asked gently, gingerly twisting a strand of yellow hair between his fingertips. Her hair glowed in the flickering and dancing firelight.

"Cora always liked Athena, goddess of warfare, civilization, wisdom, crafts, justice..."

Uncas looked amused. "All of that?"

Alice nodded, "Yes, indeed," her eyes becoming brightened, "She sprang from her father's head fully grown, with a war helmet on and brandishing a naked sword. The gods looked at her in awe."

"Who was your favorite, in your childhood?"

"Well..." Alice looked unsure, "I use to read the story of Demeter and her daughter Persephone. Demeter loved her daughter so well, she went to almost impossible odds to find her once she had been taken. Her love knew no bounds." Alice shifted as she remembered another beloved childhood favorite, "I also liked to read of Dionysus. He was the youngest of the Olympian gods but also the kindest."

Alice sat up and took a breath before leaning forward for a kiss. For several minutes they kept themselves thus preoccupied, Alice wound her arms around his neck and seemed to spur him on, further than before.

Uncas withdrew from her arms, breathing deeply. "Alice…." he said carefully.

He noticed her wide blue eyes were unblinking as she regarded him carefully. Her expression altered and she nodded to him, trying to convey everything she felt into her eyes; that she wanted this, that she knew he did, that it felt right.

Leaning down Uncas again captured her lips in his and felt the soft strands of hair by her neck. He felt suffused in sunlight and everything they felt for each other seemed to pulse between them in a throbbing, sweet embrace that enveloped them completely as his hand loosened the front buttons of her dress, while she tugged at his shirt.

Much later, in the safety of their bed, Alice felt her heart pound with many emotions.

What had transpired between her and Uncas had not exactly been what she had imagined went on between a man and a woman- and there was nothing wrong with her imagination- but Alice had not wanted it to end.

She curled to the side and rested her face against Uncas's side, squeezing her eyes shut; Alice remembered the feel of his lips roving over her skin, his palm skimming her waist and down her leg as he leaned down to hungrily kiss her. Her heart had seemed to beat in tandem with his actions, until she had felt the air begin to leave her and a warmth fill her limbs.

Alice was tired but… happy. Once they lived in their cabin and could indulge in their privacy, she knew the afternoon occurrence would be explored with much more comfort and ease.

Alice fell asleep thinking of the possibility and dreamed she was laying under the sturdy shadow of the birch tree, gazing up at infinite black eyes.

* * *

Wow. First of all, few things I want to say. Sorry for the long wait. School and work has been keeping me busy, but this entire week I've been snowed in, no school for me or work. That left me precious time to finish this up. Departed suggested I split this up into two chapters and I considered it, but decided to just offer you this mammoth chapter. I know all these events should have spanned two or three chapters, so if it feels like too much, again, I apologize.

It really almost hurt to write the dialogue of Edward, he's a composite of several people from my past. Shady people, obviously. But Millie, despite her anguish, is still strong. Isaac is tricky to get down. He is arrogant and proud, but not truly evil. Mategwas and Alemos's names are Abenaki; I've exhausted my Delaware names. The symbolism behind the Munro's sisters' choice in Greek gods and goddesses is very telling. Did anyone catch that?

About the final scene ::blushes:: I originally wrote this for chapter 15 but the timing felt off, it fit better here and I just tweaked the scenario. I have some more scenes that I wrote that did not make it to the final cut; you know the drill, let me know who wants to read it and I will oblige. Please R&R


	21. Chapter 21

_ChapterTwentyOne_

* * *

It was the quiescent summer twilight that Tankawun had always quietly enjoyed.

She sat composedly by the bucolic stream and turned her dark eyes to assess her surroundings. The green-tipped trees swayed in the lull of a gentle breeze... _why can I not live like the trees of our mother, the earth? So calm and undisturbed... _The stream ran smoothly over the craggy rocks, the sound of the running water that had once soothed her now seemed to mock her.

Once, when she had been a young girl and before her father had passed to the Great Council Fire, she had accompanied him on a trading venture as he'd bartered pelts to _Le Francais _Canadians in the land of the Twin Rivers. She remembered seeing a large crowd of jeering Yengeese and heard the sounds of fierce growls and snapping of strong jaws. Her feet had carried her to the circle and she looked around the sea of bodies. Two wolves were chained to hefty wooden poles opposite each other, and they were fighting to the death. Starving, mangy, their eyes clouded with madness. Tankawun had flinched and shut her eyes as one of the wolves had clamped its powerful teeth onto the the neck of the other, who only keened loudly before collapsing with a broken spine. The wolves were sacred to the Lenape and Tankawun had never before seen one harmed.

_Brother wolf, I know now what that must have been like for you, _she thought bitterly.

Tankawun felt at once crushed and weighed down as she blinked rapidly to stem the stinging, the tears that threatened to escape from behind her lids. She felt so empty inside.

Tankawun had made the trip back to the Lenape camp on foot the previous night, flanked by Alemos and Mategwas. Tankawun had felt her heart pounding painfully in her ribcage but mostly with anticipative hope; soon she would see her dear friend Stephen, and things would be right in the world again. How childish were these light-hearted thoughts!

Upon entering the camp, the three girls had not been prepared for the scene that met them. Almost the entire camp was waiting for them in foreboding silence, as look-outs had alerted them of the trio's impending arrival. Mategwas had eyed them all icily as they stood opposite the crowd, daring them with her gaze to come anywhere near her. Even Alemos, though she shook as an autumn leaf, held her ground.

Wapashuwi, Tankawun's grandmother, had stepped up in the flickering firelight and said frantically how there had been a search all afternoon for the missing adolescents. The old woman's gaunt arms had shaken as she gesticulated, and her reedy voice had been anguished.

Tankawun had been mid-sentence- soothing her grandmother- when suddenly her neck snapped back painfully as her braid and scalp were seized in an iron grip. It was Chemames.

"_Mother!" Tankawun screamed shrilly as she was brought to her knees with a powerful blow to her head. Mategwas and Alemos ran to aid her but Chemases berated the girls until they shrank into the crowd. There was nothing they could do. _

_Chemames dragged her eldest daughter into their wigwam and Tankawun groaned in pain as her head began to throb from the force of the stick that had struck her. _

_She was thrown inside and gaped at her mother, terrified. The older woman raised the knob-ended stick and Tankawun dodged the swing. Wapashuwi wrenched the cudgel from her daughter's grip with unexpected strength._

"_I will discipline my daughter, not you, Mother! My patience has run out with her wild ways. No more." Chemames's eyes locked with her petrified daughter's, "No more! I have decided."_

_Tankawun hugged herself as she took steps back, quivering like a flame despite the warmth of the interior. "I can explain, Mother..."_

"_Explain what? That you have become the squaw of a Yengeese?"_

"_No! I have not even seen him for days-"_

"_That you constantly disobey my commands, flaunt your willfulness, ignore the young men who show you any interest, unworthy as you are?" _

_The words stung but a rebuttal was fast rising in her throat. "That's not true," she whispered, "you..." Tankawun's voice hitched, "you never let me be happy."_

_Chemames gaped at her daughter in wide eyed wonderment. "I never what? I never let you do as you please, perhaps! I realize now that you were entirely too spoiled, look around this entire camp!" the woman's voice thundered in the wigwam, "do you see any other empty-headed girls wandering about the forest all day, making eyes at Yengeese men, disobeying their elders?"_

_Tankawun tried to wriggle free as her mother's fingers grasped her chin forcefully. "But I have had enough of your embarrassing behavior, daughter. I have made my decision."_

"_What?" asked Tanawun in a tiny, ineffectual voice._

"_Your uncle. Your father's people, the Unami who dwell on the eastern shores- you will go to live with them. I am sending you at first light."_

"_I am not going!" Tankawun screamed, knocking aside Chemames's hand from her face. Her mother and grandmother looked shocked, as Tankawun had never before raised her voice to an elder. _

"_This land is my home, I belong to this land," Tankawun continued resonantly, "if I must leave your wigwam, Mother, so be it. But I will not be thrown from the land of my ancestors."_

_Chemames had recovered her voice- and her rage. "What will you do," she sneered, "run off with that flame-haired monstrosity? His family will make you a slave and then you will regret the day you left."_

_Tankawun was strongly reminded of a hunting knife, hacking and sawing away at the soft hide of a deer. Her mother's tongue was sharp enough to wound; to cut. _

_Wapashuwi's voice was gentle as she bade Tankawun to go to the wigwam of Alemos and her family. _

"_No granddaughter of mine will leave this village," was the old woman's final say. _

Tankawun shook her head dolefully at the memory. She had run to Alemos's wigwam. The family had taken her in in pity, although Alemos's father was very angry at the girls for running off as they had and putting themselves in danger.

Was there no hope for her? thought Tankawun, winding her fingers on her lap with agitation. She would not leave this land, she would not be banished to live with near strangers, even if they were bound to her by blood. Although the problem remained that her mother would not welcome her back, unless she ceased straying out of the Lenape grounds and communicating with Stephen and the other whites.

Tankawun could not. It had never once crossed her mind that she was rebellious or wayward, she simply did as her heart desired. And her heart desired to continue seeing her red-haired protector and loyal friend. There was no _romance _involving her and Stephen, she thought with an eye roll- she purposefully fought down the thought that there was at least a hint of it- because males and females could come together chastely as well.

Tankawun sat straighter, her thoughts suddenly would not sit here idly and watch the world drift by. She wanted to see her friend, and nobody (neither Indians nor white) would stop her.

* * *

"What are you making?"

Alice turned to view the speaker, a ghost of a smile dancing on her lips in the near darkness.

"I was attempting to make you buttermilk biscuits," she murmured as Uncas drew nearer. He raised a black brow, repeating the words back to her with his strange colonial intonation coupled with the halting manner in which the Indians spoke English. His own English was deep and strong, not as accented as his father's but he still retained a slight inflection, Alice noted.

Uncas smiled, the firelight reflecting in his dark eyes as he watched her restock the cabinets with the flour and pewter bowls. "Why can't you make them?"

Alice sighed, scrubbing her hands on Millie's sky-blue dress as she indicated that they should sit at the rickety table.

"I do not have all the necessary ingredients," Alice murmured distractedly, thumbing a smudge of dirt from Uncas's knuckles; he had been toiling outdoors most of the day. Alice continued, "Besides the flour, I have the dashes of salt and sugar needed, but failed to recall..." her face reddened.

Uncas kept his face even. "The milk and butter?"

The young woman nodded. "Yes. Hence the name." She rose with a sigh. "I wish to wash my face and hands by the stream. We will simply have to make do with the broth I made earlier today." Uncas nodded agreeably. He was not overly fastidious when it came to food, especially anything prepared by Alice. He always praised any dish or meal by her, conscious that she had only been cooking for about a year.

About an hour later, after washing up and consuming the weak broth- Uncas had added mealy little carrots he had found- Alice sat down by the fire and watched idly as Uncas stoked the flames. It was early evening, and the darkness of night was fast encroaching.

Uncas sprawled on the floor before the firelight with a sigh, cushioning his head with a strong arm. He gestured for her to come to him and Alice hesitated momentarily; she had never warmed much to the habit the red men had of laying or squatting about on the bare ground. Alice recalled that everyday she swept and aired the cabin, much to Uncas's amusement, in part penance and gratitude to Amelia. _What harm can there be? _Alice smiled and gamely curled beside the form of Uncas, sighing as he anchored a copper-skinned arm around her securely.

Uncas twisted a lock of yellow hair between his rough fingertips, almost captivated with the way the fire reflected off her tresses. Alice inched closer to his body and murmured her contentment. They had been together- and fully alone- in the cabin for three going on four days and nights. No word from the others... and this seemed to torment Uncas, the thought of not being able to assist his family in their hour of need. Twice now Alice had awoken in the hush of night and found Uncas sitting alone on the steps outside the cabin, looking off into the distance. Alice knew he had to stay where he was for her, Chingachgook had ordered him to remain with her and keep her safe. Therefore to see Uncas pine in silence was more than she could bear.

"I cannot wait to move into our cabin," Alice declared into Uncas's broad chest, "we have nearly missed planting for the spring, as autumn will be here in a matter of months and it will be harvest time."

"I know, Alice. I will take care of it all."

Alice's eyes were both concentrated and far away, "Oh, if only we had completed the home in the early spring! I will clear the land and plant as soon as we are situated... and if we were to acquire livestock we must be sure to plant red clover for the creatures to eat, so they do not become accustomed to eating all our grain or corn. Yes..." she nodded to herself, "I will make sure of that."

Uncas cocked his head and considered this wisp of a girl that lay before him, blonde hair spilling onto his arm. It was no fault of her own, but throughout the last year she had spent almost all of her free time with James and traces of this experience would most likely linger in her demeanor and words for a long, long time. Her manners were still refined, but she had become very outspoken and undaunted, a far cry from the catatonic little sparrow that she had been moons before.

Alice had adapted Anabel's shrewd train of thinking and mimicked James's behavior- _"Her manner is becoming too free for a woman, Uncas. You will correct this." _Chingachgook had muttered one afternoon as he watched Alice split wood for the pile- a man's duty- and toss her hair back to laugh as she observed Anabel screaming at James for his overindulgence in whiskey.

The issue at hand was that Alice had cultivated a sense of freedom while living with the Stewart's. Besides cooking and cleaning, truly a woman's domain, she also worked as a man, something Chingachgook did not approve of. Nathaniel could roll his eyes to the sky and shrug all he wanted while he defended her actions, but_ his_ wife was not the one who was swinging an ax about or mending fences and the like. Uncas did not know how to begin to even assess this, so for the time being, he let her do as she pleased. It was far better to have a wife who knew her way around a farm as well as a man, thought Uncas philosophically. It would just be another point in the long list of misgivings Chingachgook would detail to Uncas.

"I will clear the land, Alice." Uncas said this firmly but patiently. "I will build the fence and make any repairs. You will not be working as you have been at the Stewart's. Only cooking and mending."

Alice's eyes narrowed a bit and she pondered this. "I will not be useless," she whispered.

Uncas ran a finger down the curve of her neck until he reached her pulse point- he heard her breath hitch. He chose his words carefully. "You work harder than most people I know. It will not be so now. We can both farm and harvest, but I will split wood, Alice."

Alice groaned softly. "I do not see why it bothers you so. I will not harm myself, I am not dull-witted."

"I know. But it is not safe, especially when children may come."

Alice became very interested in the firelight, then. Though her face was turned Uncas could see the pink hue on her cheeks that bloomed like wild roses. "Whenever they may come." Uncas knew she thought of the second night spent in the cabin, now that they had established this physical conjunction, the rest of the evenings were spent in a similar fashion.

At least she was no longer blushing a deep red every morning and avoiding eye contact throughout the day.

"Shall we go to bed?" Alice asked lightly, her gaze switching to his and her another sweet, shy smile crossing her face.

"Yes," he nodded, his face stoic but his eyes ardent.

* * *

Gregory Newsom furrowed his brow and bent lower to the ground, carefully inspecting his handiwork. He had spent the majority of the day planting Indian corn and potatoes for Mrs. Mason. He had expertly plowed the soil, removed the weeds, sowed the seeds in anticipation of crops. In the next few days he would cultivate the ground to make sure enough water would be absorbed.

Gregory stood up with a muffled groan, conscious that his knees were simply not what had been in his younger days. He gingerly removed a lace kerchief from a pocket and dabbed at his dripping forehead. _What a trial you have put before me, Lord. I bear it gladly. _At least Stephen had returned home safe to his tearful mother, the lad would help him work the fields. The soil in this area of Pennsylvania colony was notoriously paltry as well as burdensome; why, if any intrepid harvester went to New York colony or anywhere along the Hudson River, they would find the _terra firma _to be fertile beyond belief! _It is no wonder Pennsylvania colony produces nothing more than merchants and shipbuilders, _thought Gregory with an elegant bob of his head, _our fair colony shall never be renowned for its farming abilities. _

Gregory's mind was churning with all of these possibilities when a shadow crossed his line of vision in the fading twilight. Looking up quickly found himself peering into the soft brown doe-eyes of a pretty Indian girl.

Gregory was aghast as he stared at her in complete shock. As per usual, his manners won out in the end.

"My dear young lady," he said with great amiability, bowing politely, "pray forgive my discomfiture. It is not seemly for a young lady to be so alone. Are you in need of assistance?"

The girl stared at him blankly, searching his face. Gregory soldiered on. "Please hurry on home, my dear. We cannot- we-" _Please do not attempt to seek out Stephen. His mother has been through the fright of her life. Please go home, dear child._

"Steeben? Kexaptun nkata keku luwe." she said meekly, peeking around Gregory. "Awen hesh ki?"

Before Gregory could voice his bafflement, Lucy bolted out of the door with an earsplitting shriek that made the man wince.

"Tankawun! Mr. Newsom, this is mine and Stephen's friend!" the little girl jubilantly hugged the beaming Lenape girl. "Oh, I have so missed her! I like her so much and she likes me, too. Come inside, Tankawun!" Lucinda tugged on Tankawun's hand, yanking her towards the cabin entrance.

"Lucy, sweet child!" Gregory called out in great alarm- he did not want Elizabeth to see the Indian girl or to have her see Stephen, not yet at least, not until the storm had passed. Alice was still gone, as were the other men. There were enough hardships.

"Lucinda, I am quite certain your lovely friend will be leaving-" Yet again, Gregory was torn. It was not gentlemanly behavior to suggest that a young lady should leave.

Resigning himself, he entered just behind the girls. He came in just in time to see Elizabeth's face twist into a cringing look of horror. Speechless, she looked upon her son who immediately jumped to his feet, tossing aside the barrel chamber of a rifle he had been cleaning.

Stephen looked positively enraptured, his blue eyes widened and an ebullient laugh erupted from his chest as he ran to the girl.

"Stephen Mason!" Elizabeth said loudly, arms akimbo, "Stephen, we have already spoken on this matter. You cannot have anymore contact with the red men. I... I have spoken and my word is final. They-"

"Mama, this is my dearest friend in the world, Tankawun of the Lenape." Stephen turned his guileless azure eyes to his mother. "She must stay for supper, she walked all the way from the camp to see me!" Stephen flashed his boyish, lighthearted grin to his Mama.

"And me too! She came to see me!" Lucy piped in, nuzzling her fair-haired head against the older girl's midriff.

Elizabeth Mason looked at the three smiling youngsters, then at the worn, apprehensive face of Gregory. Elizabeth knew she could never bring herself to deny anyone food, to her it was a crime against decency. Sustenance was sacred.

"Let us sit." Elizabeth sighed, blowing a strand of honey blonde hair from her face. Gregory nodded fervently.

"Stephen, lad, pull the chairs out for the ladies."

Minutes later Gregory watched covertly as the two adolescents giggled and smiled at each other. Stephen and Lucy laughed with delight at the sight of Tankawun struggling to use the spoon she had been handed, and her woe-be-gone expression upon sipping the hard cider. Poor _dear, _thought Gregory sympathetically. _I should have fetched her fresh water from the stream. At least Elizabeth has calmed herself. _Gregory admitted to himself that he could easily see why Stephen had become so bewitched by the Lenape girl. Yes, she was as pretty as the dawn, but she also had an infectious, gregarious disposition that easily charmed. Her smile was warm and sincere, her deep brown eyes were artless and ingenuous.

"Stephen, you have been forgetful." Elizabeth suddenly said sharply, frustrated with her son's simpering, besotted smile. "I must insist you find out more about Alice and Uncas and the rest of our neighbors. Will you cease speaking nonsense to our lady guest, and ask her the relevant questions?"

Stephen blushed wildly. "Of course, Mama... but I already asked, I don't understand her words, I aint sure..."

"I am not certain," Gregory corrected tiredly, wiping his mouth with his lace kerchief.

Stephen nodded obediently, "Right. She aint- I mean, I don't reckon she can tell us much. I am not certain."

"Would it be too forward of me to presume your lady friend's sojourn here tonight is a mere social call?" asked Gregory Newsom lightly. Stephen blinked dumbly at the older man, unable to decipher most of that statement.

"Forgive me, my lad. What I meant by the question is... is she here to visit with you, or to relay any matter of great importance?"

"I reckon just to visit, Mr. Newsom. After supper I will walk her home-"

"You will do nothing of the sort, young man." Elizabeth whispered, glaring at her son. "Gregory-?"

He nodded his assent. "I will see her safely home, I will take her as far as I am able to without trespassing, within sight of the Lenape camp."

Stephen played with his food for several seconds, concentrating deeply. "Alright," he said at length, "but first, I want to speak with Tankawun outside. Alone. I have to tell her somethin'."

Stephen stood up energetically and indicated to Tankawun that they would leave. She stood up and placed a hand over her heart. "Wanishi."

As Elizabeth watched her son grab hold of the girl's hand as they exited, she closed her eyes as a barb of agony shot into her heart. Both of these youngsters were being beyond foolish, if they truly thought their innocent dalliance would result in any happiness. The world would never view them with kindness.

* * *

The next morning Uncas awoke in his usual manner: quickly, shaking off sleep with ease and assessing his surroundings with a hawk's precision. He slipped out of the bed quietly, conscious of Alice still in the deep throes of slumber beside him. Uncas quickly donned his dark green shirt had been tossed carelessly over a chair, then stepped up to the hearth to stoke the dying embers. He let out a small wince. He hated the white man's bed. It offered the back no support and he slept badly every night, wishing he could only lay the ground atop some hides. But that would mean sleeping apart from Alice.

Uncas turned and regarded Alice for several long seconds, his gaze admiring. How lovely she looked, her pale skin almost glowing in the near darkness of the pre-dawn hours; her hair, always resembling a field of sun-ripened grain with its yellow hue, now resembled a white man's angel with a golden halo. He had read the black book of the Yengeese in Reverend Wheelock's school, and heard the sacred stories the whites always squawked and preached about.

Uncas was immensely enjoying the new-found passion she showed him during those most private moments. He recalled with a stab of longing how fragile and slight she seemed when she was lost in his arms each night, hands light and unsure, her voice no more than a shallow whisper as she breathed his name and wound her arms around his neck.

These were the exact thoughts coursing through his mind when, quite suddenly, Uncas's mind sharply focused as he heard the unmistakeable tread of footsteps outside.

Uncas grabbed his hatchet and went immediately to door, glancing quickly at the still form of Alice. Opening the door a crack, Uncas maintained his posture of alertness and peered out, hatchet ready.

Before he had the chance to react the door was forcefully pushed by strong hands, sending him back a few paces.

"Father?" asked Uncas with amazement in Mohican as the elder man clambered inside, tugging a deer hide around his shoulder irritably. The hatchet was hurriedly lowered.

"Where are the others, Father? What has happened? Are they-" Uncas halted uncertainly, noting that his father's eyes had become narrow slits of anger and disapproval. He turned and cringed inwardly.

Alice. How could he have forgotten about her sleeping peacefully on the bed they had been sharing for days? Chingachgook had most assuredly not missed the fact that she was only wearing her thin shift, one white shoulder drooping out,tangled in the frayed and worn-thin blanket of the bed... there was an indentation beside her from where he had obviously slept.

"I know-" Chingachgook said calmly but his eyes were as two hot coals, "I know we had a conversation in which I ordered you not to touch her until she was in your cabin, under your care. You have both only been alone here for a matter of days."

Uncas swallowed nervously, vacillating between shame and the need to defend himself. She was as good as his wife now. She had consented. He had seen twenty three summers in his life, he was no green boy. "Father, I-"

"Furthermore," the old man cut in sharply, his brows connecting sharply into a V shape, "this is not your home. It belongs to that Yengeese girl. You disrespect her and you dishonor me."

"Father, Alice is my wife." Uncas said with great solemnity, striving to keep his voice as neutral as possible.

Chingachgook looked at his youngest son scornfully. "She will be your woman as soon as you act as a husband should, providing for her on your own terms. Not romancing her into bed in a home that does not belong to you."

Alice mumbled in her sleep and Uncas tensed; he knew she would be mortified beyond all belief if she awoke to see his father scowling over her. Alice merely turned and burrowed deeper into the blanket.

Chingachgook looked upon the young woman thoughtfully, but with no apparent anger. It was obvious he put the blame squarely at the feet of his son.

"Uncas. We are leaving. Wake the girl, and we are taking her to her sister and the Stewart's."

"Is everything alright, Father?" asked Uncas cautiously, tilting his head to the side as he worriedly scanned his father's lined face. Chingachgook did not answer.

"Where is my brother? Is he safe?"

For the first time that Uncas could recall, his father looked unnerved. Fear seemed to be as flames licking at his heels.

"No."

Uncas recalled something an old man from a far off tribe had told him as a boy... _What is life? It is the flash of the firefly in the night. It is the breath of a buffalo in the winter-time. It is the little shadow which runs across the grass and loses itself in the sunset. _

It was only now in manhood that Uncas could make sense of the words he had taken for granted in his youth. That life was fleeting. As delicate as a dewdrop on a maple leaf. The Master of Life breathed life into all beings, but it could be snatched at any moment.

His brother now hung in this precarious balance. Something was horribly wrong.

Uncas did not ask for any explanation, he only met his father's gaze unflinchingly. "I will awaken her. Let us go now."

* * *

This is mainly a filler chapter. The Indian "what is life?" saying is not mine, either.

Tankawun's Lenape conversation with Gregory N: "Steeben? I need to talk to him." "Who are you?"


End file.
